


The Moon's Favourite Son and the Guardian of the Forest

by shaggydogstail, Tpants



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tale Retellings, Forbidden Forest, M/M, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Minor Madam Rosmerta/Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minor Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Multi, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-11 14:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15317016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/pseuds/shaggydogstail, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tpants/pseuds/Tpants
Summary: When Remus was a little boy, he used to listen to stories told by the wind which came down his chimney. When he became an adult, he travelled to the place those stories came from, a magical forest far away. There he met Sirius, so beautiful and mysterious it was like he'd stepped straight out of a story book himself, and better yet Sirius promised to grant him three wishes.Remus finally had the chance of make a story of his own. But in a land still cursed with Dark Magic, he soon learns that being the author of your own adventure isn't always easy, and it's best to be careful what you wish for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by, and draws on, several of my favourite childhood books, fairy tales, and myths. In particular: Tales the Wind Told by Marie Mrštíková; Ears & Tails & Common Sense: More Stories from the Caribbean by Philip M Sherlock and Hilary Sherlock; various aspects of Celtic mythology, especially the Mabinogion; and Swan Lake.
> 
> Many thanks to my amazing alpha and beta readers, museinabsentia, thestarandthemoony, and YumeNouveau, who all offered tremendous advice and support at various times.
> 
> Thanks most of all to my amazing partner in crime, artist, and co-conspirator, Tpants. 
> 
> Shaggydogstail xx

[ ](http://s199.photobucket.com/user/gazerockyo/media/WSBB2018/WSBB_Ch1c_zpsezpnee7d.jpg.html)

_Long ago and far away, a forest grew, proud and strong, more magnificent than any other. The Forest was resplendent with trees and beautiful flowers, and it was home to all manner of creatures. This alone made it an impressive forest, but this forest was more remarkable still; it was the richest source of natural magic in many lands._

The voice from the chimney told an old tale, familiar and comforting from repetition. Listening to it for the tenth, or the hundredth, or maybe the two hundredth time, a boy with loose curls and wide eyes sat wrapped in a quilt on the rug before the fire.  He was an ordinary boy, quiet and observant. His own appearance was unremarkable, save for the mark of a crescent moon which sat, like a teardrop, below his eye.

‘It’s not really that far away, is it?’ said the boy, who was nearly a man, and whose name was Remus. ‘Father says the Forest is in the Unicorn Realm, about a two week journey with good horses.’

_Is your father telling this story or am I?_

Remus knew very well that his father had little time for stories, especially ones about magic, so he piped down and stoked the fire with a poker.

 _Good_ , _I was starting to miss the days when you said you were too old for fairy tales._

‘I’m too old to be too old for fairy tales,’ said Remus. ‘Tell me about the war.’

The wind down the chimney blew, sending little sparks shooting up from the fire, and hot ashes sprinkling across the rug. Remus had to pat some of the smouldering embers down before the rug caught alight.

 _Very well_. _The Forest was a peaceful and harmonious place, but the magic it held was a great temptation to those who craved power. One such of those is a name you may have heard; the Death King._

Remus shivered despite the warmth of the fire. The Death King was gone, but the fear his name carried remained.

_The Death King craved many things, but the thing he wanted more than any other was power. He wanted to rule the world and everyone in it; some say he craved power over life itself. To achieve his aims he used violence, coercion, and bribery, but most of all he used magic._

'Dark magic?' asked Remus. 'Bad magic.'

_All kinds of magic. The Death King sought to control it all - he wanted to hoard magic, gather it all up so that it would only be used to serve his purposes. Magic was once free and abundant, sometimes used for good, sometimes for ill – just like scientists or artisans, those who had magic made their own choices about how best to use their knowledge. The Death King wanted to conquer them all, to bend them to his will and destroy those who refused to serve him. And so, he went to war. A brutal war was waged by the Death King and his allies against all of free magic - the witches, wizards and druids, Children of the Phoenix, centaurs, fairies - anyone who opposed the Death King's tyranny._

'What does this have to do with the Forest?' asked Remus, huddling into his quilt. That was the part of the story he’d never yet been told.

_The Death King hated the Forest, because it was full of free magic, open to all. But he wanted it too, because it was rich with magical power. He wanted to own it, and if he couldn't own it he would see it burn. The Forest was protected by some of the most powerful magic users; the Guardians of the Forest. Since its creation the Forest was served by many Guardians, always four at a time, each representing the four elements of Earth, Air, Fire and Water, and the seasons of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Together they brought balance and harmony to the Forest, and protected it from danger. So naturally, when the Death King tried to conquer the Forest, they fought to protect it._

'They did?' asked Remus, breathlessly excited.

_They did. The Guardians fought not only to save their home, but all of us. They fought bravely, fiercely, and without rest. They fought for the Forest, for magic, and for all that is beautiful and true in this world. Above all, they fought for freedom._

'What happened?'

_They lost._

Remus blinked. This was not how stories were supposed to end. The Guardians had been good. They weren't supposed to lose.

_They lost. They lost everything. We all lost._

That couldn’t be right, thought Remus. Not just because it wasn’t fair – Remus knew the world wasn’t fair, he wasn’t a child – but the Death King had been defeated. The Forest hadn’t burnt, his father and uncles sometimes travelled there for work.

The wind that spoke down the chimney seemed to hear his thoughts.

_You doubt me, but remember that I’ve been telling you stories all your life, and I have never told you any lies. Still, perhaps it’s time for you to see for yourself. If you can find your way to the Forest, I have need of an apprentice._

It was like a dream come true. Remus had heard, listened, dreamt about the Forest so often, he’d never thought he’d actually go there himself. His father didn’t want Remus going into the family business, so Remus had expected to stay in the Dragonlands and learn a proper trade. ‘I could really learn with you?’ he asked. ‘In the Forest, is that where you live?’

_In the Forest, where I live. All these years I’ve been telling you stories, did you never wonder where they came from?_

Remus stood up, the quilt falling forgotten to the floor behind him. ‘Will you tell me them all?’

_Some of them anyway. Perhaps you’ll ever make some of your own. If you work and study hard, you might even discover the most wonderful and terrible stories of all._

‘What’s that?’

_The truth._

 

* * *

 

The journey to the Forest was long and arduous, across mountains and through valleys, all the time having to care for the horses that carried them before the humans. Remus didn't think to breathe a single word of complaint, though, too enthralled to be travelling at all. His cousin, Kingsley, took the lead, having made the journey before, and Remus was happy to follow his instructions. His only concern was that his father had only allowed Remus to take his place this time because he was confined to bed himself, brought low by unexplained fatigue. His mother, though, had kissed Remus as she wound a scarf around his neck, told him not to worry, and reminded him to enjoy himself before they set off.

They journeyed through the Poets’ Lakes, gathering water, fresh and pure, to deliver to the Forest.

'I still don't understand why we're taking water such a long way,' said Remus, as they set off across the border. 'Surely it rains in the Unicorn Realms?'

Kingsley shrugged. 'A good trader doesn't ask questions unless it helps make another sale,' he explained. 'If you do take to the road you'll learn that people will pay good gold for all sorts of surprising things.'

Remus had no plans to take to the road, though. He'd enjoyed the journey well enough - despite the discomfort, there was plenty to see along the way - but he couldn't think beyond getting to the Forest.

They arrived in the evening, as the sun sunk in the sky and the night birds took up their song. The entrance to the Forest was marked by a large gateway, with a pair of unicorns rampant on either side. The border guard already knew Kingsley and waved them past, barely noticing Remus. Not that Remus ever thought himself much to look at; most people barely noticed his crescent moon, and saw only an ordinary young man who was autumn-hued and plain of face and dress. Slight of build, he carried himself with great care, barely leaving a footprint in his wake.  Remus preferred not to see than be seen.

The Forest was more magnificent than he'd ever imagined. The trees stood tall and strong, occupying a vast space that seemed to go on forever as they reached up into the sky. Heathers in many colours grew along the pathways, and fairies danced in the distance.

'It's a magical place, isn't it?' said Kingsley, grinning at Remus' obvious delight. 'You never know, you might even manage a bit of magic here yourself.'

Remus smiled politely, though he doubted it. Kingsley, like his father before him and Remus' own father, could perform a little magic, though he seldom made use of it. Despite being moon-cursed, Remus himself took after his solidly non-magical mother, and had never so much as mended a tea cup without glue.

Beneath a canopy of sumptuous pines was an Inn, bright with welcoming candlelight and full of chatter and laughter. The chairs were plump and inviting, and the fireplaces cosy. It was a large, irregular place, that seemed to beckon visitors in to explore and find their own spot. Remus and Kingsley were greeted by a welcoming shout from a sturdy, smiling woman with long curly hair and enormous earrings.

'Kingsley, found your way back at last?' she said, and laughed as Kingsley enveloped her in a hug.

'Could never keep away from you for long, Rosie,' said Kingsley. 'And, see, I brought you a guest. This young man is my cousin, Remus. Remus, this lovely lady is Rosmerta, the landlady of this fine establishment. She sees and hears everything, so what Rosie doesn't know about the Forest isn't worth knowing.'

'Flatterer,' said Rosmerta, rolling her eyes. She turned to Remus and smiled. 'He's only saying that because it's true. But that's enough chit-chat; you've had a long journey, you must be tired. Let me show you to your room.'

The room Rosmerta provided was clean and comfortable, though it took Remus several moments to realise what was missing; there was no fireplace. Still, he didn't really need one now. In the morning he'd get to speak to the voice of the wind directly. _Professor Bagshot_ , he reminded himself, still surprised that the imaginary friend who told had him stories down the chimney since childhood was not only a real person; she was going to be his teacher.

There was a Calling Mirror over the table in the corner of the room. Remus hesitated before using it; Calling Mirrors were magical devices, useful for communicating over long distances, but often difficult for non-magical folk such as his mother and himself to use properly. But his mother would be anxious to know the journey had gone well, and he wanted to hear about his father. Besides, everyone knew the Forest was full of magic; perhaps the magical devices here would be more powerful, to compensate for Remus' own lack of ability.

Happily, it seemed Remus' optimism was well founded. The mirror sprang to life easily, and Remus was soon looking at his mother's kind face, so clear he might've been seeing her through a window.

Hope Lupin was eager for news of the journey, the new things Remus and seen and the people he'd met, and also to be reassured that he was maintaining a supply of clean underwear.

'And Father?' asked Remus, pleasantries exhausted. 'How is he?'

'No change,' said his mother. Her mouth formed a small smile, though her eyes were downcast. 'He's sleeping now. But he wouldn't want you to worry.'

Remus could scarcely promise not to do that, so instead he promised to study hard, eat his vegetables, and remember to wash behind his ears, and his mother seemed content with that.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun shone brightly on Remus' first day in the Forest, filling him with optimism. He was a long way from home, on an adventure, the one he'd been waiting for as long as he could remember. Thanks to the mysterious voice of the wind, who he now knew to be Professor Bagshot, he'd grown up listening to stories about the Forest, so he felt like he knew it already.

Rosmerta fed him up on porridge and sent him on his way with directions to follow the path to the old oak, turn right at the pass and carry on past the mulberry bush, left at broken stile, and you'll know it when you see it. Remus thought that perhaps he'd have to learn to draw a map.

Today he had no lessons, and plenty of time to explore, so he allowed himself to wander. The Forest was darkly imposing, so much bigger than Remus had ever imagined. With tall trees in every direction, it seemed to go on forever. It was an appealing idea; that a whole world might exist in the Forest. After several hours of wandering, when he’d eaten his sandwiches in a clearing full of bluebells, and lost count of the ditches he’d jumped over, Remus was forced to conclude that he was lost. He looked around for a friendly face, hoping to ask for directions, but realised it had been at least an hour since he had seen another human being. He stopped and listened, hoping to find some clue in the song of the birds or the rustling of the wind, and was relieved to hear a voice coming from just beyond a nearby cluster of shrubs.

Carefully making his way through the bushes, Remus emerged into a clearing, apparently unseen and unheard. There in front of him stood the most extraordinary looking person Remus had ever seen. The young man could be a storybook prince, tall and handsome with hair like a raven’s wing, though his regal bearing was undermined by the way he was engaging in a furious disagreement with a squirrel. Remus stopped and shook his head, taking a moment to remember that the stranger’s good looks ought to be less surprising than the fact that he was talking to a squirrel. Some of Remus’ relatives –the magical ones – could behave oddly at times, but he’d never seen any of them try to strike up conversation with a woodland creature. Stranger still, the squirrel seemed to be talking back, though Remus himself couldn't understand a thing until it pointed a tiny claw at him, chittering furiously.

The man stopped and turned to look at Remus. 'Hello,' he said. 'You're new. What are you doing in my Forest?'

The man’s tone was rather haughty, so much so that Remus had a half a mind to tell him that it wasn't his Forest, but stopped himself just in time. Perhaps the man really was a Prince in these lands, and if so Remus would do well not to anger him.

'I've come to study with Professor Bagshot,' said Remus. 'Only... I'm a bit lost.'

'Are you now?' said the storybook prince. He smiled, seemingly amused, which somehow made him look handsomer and more aggravating than ever. 'Then it's a lucky thing I found you.'

Remus hadn’t decided about that, but the squirrel was making loud noises and distracting the stranger’s attention. He'd never thought of himself as a particularly competitive person, but he didn't care to be upstaged by a squirrel. Shouldn't it be off gathering nuts or something? On a whim, Remus reached into the nearest bush, a hawthorn, and pulled off a twig covered in brilliant red berries.

'Here,' he said, reaching out.

Tall dark and handsome stopped talking and turned to face Remus again. His eyes grew very wide as he saw the twig in Remus' hand, and he reached out slowly to take it.

'How did you..?' he began, sounding astonished, though Remus couldn’t see why. It was only meant to be a peace offering for the squirrel, which had by now fallen strangely silent.

Something very strange happened as the haughty prince took the twig out of Remus’ hand. There was a rustle in the trees, a sound like laughter in the air, and as Remus glanced around he saw for the first time that the clearing was edged with toadstools. He was standing right in the middle of a fairy ring.

'Is that magic?' he whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

The stranger looked at him curiously. 'My name is Sirius Black,' he said after a long pause. 'I must grant you three wishes.'

Remus stared back at the man - Sirius - hardly believing what he heard. Was this some sort of a trick?

'It's not a joke, and it's not a trick,' said Sirius, as if he had read Remus' mind. 'My magic is at your disposal, I am bound to serve.'

‘To serve… me?’ Remus shook his head. Surely that couldn’t be right. There was something about Sirius’ expression that suggested he didn’t think it was right either.

‘Three wishes,’ said Sirius coolly.

Remus’ mind was racing; this was an opportunity he’d scarcely dared dream about. The chance not just to have a dream come true, but to have it three times. Should he wish for wealth, wisdom, happiness? The possibilities were dizzying, alarmingly infinite.

‘I can wish for anything at all?’

‘You can wish for anything at all,’ Sirius repeated, the words somehow sounding more significant coming from his mouth.

‘That’s so much responsibility,’ said Remus. ‘Being able to wish for anything… I could do something terrible!’

For some reason this didn’t seem to trouble Sirius at all. In fact, he looked pleased. ‘Do you want to do something terrible?’

Remus shook his head violently. ‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘But magic… I can’t do any but I know it’s dangerous. Being able to wish for anything… that’s really powerful. It’s a big responsibility.’

‘Yes, it is.’ Sirius’ smile this time seemed more genuine. ‘I’m glad you noticed.’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’

‘You’d be surprised. People can be very stupid,’ said Sirius. ‘Especially when they really want something.’

Remus wondered if Sirius might think he was stupid; he was certainly struggling to come up with what he wanted to wish for, his brain frozen into inaction by the sheer breadth of possibilities.

‘You don’t have to decide right away,’ said Sirius, more kindly now. He took a step closer, and picked up Remus’ hand in his own. Remus had to bite down the instinct to pull away, somehow nervous of this strange, magical person who promised to turn his world upside down. ‘Take your time. Think about what it is you really want.’

‘How will I find you again?’

‘I’ll find you,’ said Sirius, another mischievous smile playing across his face as he let go of Remus’ hand. ‘It is my Forest, after all.’

And then, before Remus could think of any more to say at all, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Over dinner at the Inn, a hearty meal of rich stew and potatoes washed down with foamy ale, Remus told Kingsley and Rosmerta about his encounter with Sirius.

‘And you’re feeling like a kid in a sweetshop?’ asked Kingsley, when Remus faltered at coming up with his wish list.

‘I suppose,’ said Remus. He’d been thinking about it all afternoon, and still felt none the wiser. What was he meant to wish for? He’d recovered from the shock enough to have some ideas, but somehow they all seemed too greedy, or too trivial, too selfish or too grand. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’

Kingsley raised his tankard and took a drink. ‘I can think of worse problems to have.’

Remus flushed; perhaps he was being ungrateful.

‘You’re right to be cautious,’ said Rosmerta as she dished out the vegetables. ‘Having your dreams come true isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.’

Kingsley leant over to her, patting her hand. ‘And here I was thinking you were pleased to see me.’

‘Go on with you,’ said Rosmerta, swatting him away before turning her attention back to Remus. ‘There was a young man once, not much older than you, who had a chance to make a wish. Now this young man, his name was Baltair and he was in love with a woman named Mairead. She loved him too, so perhaps he should’ve known to count his blessings. All Baltair wanted in the world was to be with Mairead, so that’s what he wished for – that they be joined together for the rest of their lives.’

‘Oh.’ Remus furrowed his brows. ‘He wanted to marry her?’

‘Perhaps that would’ve been a more sensible wish,’ said Rosmerta. ‘But no; they were joined together, quite literally, with her left ankle fused to his right, so they were attached like entrants in a three legged race. Now, you might well imagine, this was not good for romance. They couldn’t spend a moment apart, not to work, or visit friends or family, not even to bathe. So they became irritated with each other, then frustrated, until finally when Mairead got a chance to make a wish of her own she wished she’d never have to see Baltair’s stupid face or ever hear from him again.’

‘That’s a shame, after they started out so in love,’ said Remus. ‘I suppose they split up?’

‘It’s worse than that,’ Rosmerta told him. ‘Mairead couldn’t undo Baltair’s wish, so she was still stuck with him. But she didn’t have to see his face or hear his voice again, once he’d been turned into a wart on her ankle.’

Kingsley let out a low whistle. ‘I hope you’re not planning to turn me into a wart when you get tired of me.’

Rosmerta winked at him. ‘Best make sure I don’t get tired of you,’ she said. ‘If you don’t want to end up like poor Baltair. Poor Mairead too, come to that; she might’ve been fed up with Baltair but really she just wanted some room to breathe. She spent the rest of her days with the man she loved stuck to her as a wart – I don’t think she ever got over it.’

The story was a humorous one, and the way Kingsley chuckled at the telling of it made Remus question whether it was true. Still, it did nothing to quell Remus’ fear that the chance to have his wishes granted was fraught with danger.

 

In the morning Remus came downstairs to see Sirius sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of porridge. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around, not that Remus expected company at such an early hour.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Remus, with uncustomary bluntness. He wasn’t prepared to deal with Sirius, or what he had to offer, just yet.

‘Having breakfast,’ said Sirius. ‘Surprised?’

Remus was actually; he hadn’t realised Sirius even ate food. Not that he’d given the matter much thought, but if he had he’d probably have assumed Sirius sustained himself on nectar or ambrosia or some other delicacy fit for supernatural beings. Not porridge.

‘Are you actually a person?’ Remus blurted out before he could stop himself. Too late, he clapped his hand over his mouth. He could feel his cheeks burning.

Fortunately, Sirius didn’t seem offended. He glanced down at himself, as though checking his lower half was still there, and then looked back at Remus. ‘Looks like it.’

‘Sorry.’ Remus was still mortified. ‘I didn’t mean… I’ve never met anyone like you before.’

‘No,’ said Sirius, smiling. ‘I don’t suppose you have. No matter. Why don’t you stop stuttering and sit down and have some breakfast? You can have anything you wish for.’

Remus chuckled at that, and helped himself to some porridge. ‘Is that why you’re here so early? Hoping to trick me into using up a wish on something trivial?’

‘I’d be very disappointed if you did.’

‘It’s tempting, in a way,’ said Remus as he stirred honey into his porridge. ‘Three daft wishes, have a bit of fun, then I’d not have to worry about what to ask for. I’d regret it later, though.’

‘Regrets can be hard to avoid,’ said Sirius. He pushed his empty bowl away. ‘Perhaps it would help if you knew more about how wishing works, so you can make an informed choice.’

Remus considered this as a swallowed a mouthful of porridge. He had come to the Forest to learn. ‘And I suppose you could tell me? It wouldn’t count as one of my wishes?’

‘It’s only a wish if you say “I wish” at the start,’ Sirius assured him.

He seemed sincere, but Remus still had his doubts. ‘I don’t know if I should trust you.’

Sirius leant across the table, his beautiful grey eyes sparkle with mischief. ‘Oh, you definitely shouldn’t trust me.’

 

* * *

 

They walked out into the Forest, along a dry river bed and beneath a canopy of trees. Sirius seemed to know everything about the Forest, every tree and plant, all the creatures that made it their home. More than that, the Forest seemed to know him, the ravens cawing a greeting as they flew overhead, the firs shaking needles like confetti as he passed. While Remus ducked his head to avoid low branches, they seemed to part to allow Sirius to pass freely.

‘Does it really belong to you, the Forest?’ asked Remus, as they clamoured over moss-covered boulders, taking care to avoid a family of sleeping lizards. ‘You own the land?’

‘Nobody owns it,’ said Sirius. He glanced around, as if breathing in the scent of heather in the air, and the vast expanses of greenery all around. ‘I belong to the Forest.’

Despite not being sure what that meant, Remus felt instinctively that it must be true. There was something about the way Sirius moved through the Forest, so confident and sure, that made him seem utterly at one with the place, and Remus found himself unable to imagine Sirius anywhere else. It must be nice, Remus reflected a little wistfully, to be so very much at home somewhere.

‘You’re lucky,’ said Remus, glancing around. ‘It’s so beautiful here’

Sirius smiled, and for the first time since Remus had met him he seemed genuinely happy, not calculating or teasing. ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘Not everyone agrees. The Forest isn’t what it once was… when the river flowed and the autumn fruits flourished every year. It used to be magnificent.’

The Death King, Remus knew, was responsible for that. He’d heard the stories so many times, and even caught glimpses of the dark parts of the Forest that Sirius steered him away from. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But it’s still the most amazing place I’ve ever seen.’

‘Good.’ Sirius nodded. ‘But we didn’t come out here just so you could compliment my home. You want to know more about wishing.’

‘You told me I could wish for anything,’ said Remus.

‘I did,’ agreed Sirius.

‘So I can have anything I want?’

‘Ah.’ Sirius stopped walking and looked at him directly. ‘I didn’t say that.’

Remus considered carefully. Sirius wasn’t making a great deal of sense, and Remus had a suspicion that was deliberate. ‘I don’t understand,’ he confessed.

‘That’s because you’re not supposed to,’ said Sirius. ‘Wishing isn’t meant to be easy. Strictly speaking I shouldn’t be helping you at all.’

‘But you will?’ said Remus, suddenly anxious, for all Sirius himself had said not to trust him.

Sirius grinned. ‘Lucky for you, I don’t like rules very much.’ He gestured for Remus to sit down, on a fallen tree trunk covered in moss and strange, colourful fungi. A hare popped out of the trunk, and allowed Sirius to stroke its long ears before bounding away. Sirius settled himself, leaning against a nearby oak, before continuing.

‘There are three parts to every wish,’ he explained. ‘The person making the wish, the genie granting it, and the magic that lets it happen. Magic isn’t always predictable, but it does have limits – you can’t wish the dead back to life or to have more wishes. Even the most powerful magic can’t do the impossible but it can, if you’re smart and you get lucky, achieve things that are highly improbable.

‘Then there’s the person granting the wish. That’s me.’ Sirius grinned toothily. ‘I have to grant your wish, if I can, but I might not grant it in the way you expect. A person might wish never to be hungry again, but still starve to death if all their genie did was remove their ability to feel hunger rather than help them find food.’

Remus thought of Rosmerta’s story from the night before, about how neither Baltair nor Mairead had truly got what they wanted. To hear Sirius talk, their woes were just the start of it.

‘It sounds like genies can be very cruel,’ he said. Remus didn’t quite dare ask whether Sirius himself had been the one to let someone starve to death, or if he’d granted Baltair or Mairead their ruinous wishes.

‘Yes,’ agreed Sirius. ‘Yes, we can. But I still haven’t told you about the most important part; the wish itself and the person making it. Or rather… it’s not the person themselves, it’s more how much they want it.’

Remus frowned. ‘Surely if someone’s using up a wish it must be for something they really want?’

‘Usually, but there’s more to it,’ said Sirius. ‘The thing you have to understand about magic is that it isn’t fair or logical. The most powerful magic is fuelled by strong emotions. A person might sincerely want world peace but that’s a huge wish, too much to be powered by compassion for strangers. But if someone they love is in danger… they could wish for them to be safe.’

‘And that’s what makes a wish really powerful?’ asked Remus. ‘Love?’

‘Any powerful emotion, really,’ said Sirius. ‘It could be anger, hatred, greed, desire… but let’s say love. It sounds more poetic.’

Remus laughed softly. ‘Why are you helping me?’

Sirius moved closer, leaning to peer into Remus’ face. He seemed to be looking directly at the crescent moon which hung below Remus’ eye, the one which, for no reason Remus had ever been able to understand, most people didn’t seem to notice. Remus was glad of that, for it seemed like such an obvious sign of his moon curse. He wondered if Sirius could read his mind and already knew.

‘You’re special,’ said Sirius softly.

On second thoughts, maybe Sirius wasn’t so smart after all. ‘There’s nothing special about me,’ said Remus.

Sirius kept on looking at him, sure and steady. Remus had to fight the urge to squirm away. ‘You came to the Forest to learn, didn’t you? Well, I hope you do.’

And then, before Remus could speak, before he could so much as think or even blink, Sirius was gone.

 

* * *

 

Remus was still pondering what Sirius told him that evening, when he approached the mirror to speak to his mother. She looked worried, her hair coming undone and dark circles beneath her eyes.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, ignoring her customary greetings. ‘Is it Dad? Is he worse?’

His mother seemed too tired to argue. ‘He’s in bed. We think… we think it’s the Sleeping Sickness.’

Remus took a deep breath. The Sleeping Sickness wasn’t fatal, though it left sufferers in a state that seemed close to death, confined to bed in a silent torpor for months, even years on end. Many victims died not from the disease itself, but from infections or general weakness over time. There were rumours that a cure existed, though none had ever been found in the Dragonlands.

One thing was for certain; even if he didn’t know yet quite how to do it, Remus was going to use his first wish to save his father.


	3. Chapter 3

Bathilda Bagshot taught - and lived, perhaps - in a tall tower some distance from the Inn. It was a pleasant walk, through groves of flowering ferns and past a clearing where Remus saw gnomes playing leap-frog over tree stumps. Still, it was difficult for him to enjoy the journey, as his mind was full of thoughts of his father's illness. It was a consolation to know he already had the key to saving him - somehow he could wish his father back to health - but what he had learnt from Rosmerta and from Sirius made him cautious, ready to wait and consider how best to phrase his wish to help his father.

The tower was made of ancient stone, weather worn and marked with strange runic symbols. There was a large, cat-like creature sleeping on the doorstep, which gave a disgruntled hiss and stalked away when Remus rapped on the griffin shaped knocker.

'Enter!' called Professor Bagshot's voice, and Remus pushed open the heavy wooden door to reveal the bizarre and muddled interior. There were wide wooden steps running in a spiral up to the top of the tower, where brilliant light shone down through the glass ceiling. On each of the many levels were wide fireplaces, and Remus realised with a start that this must be how Professor Bagshot shared her stories not only with him, but with perhaps hundreds of others. In between the fireplaces were bookshelves crammed with countless books, many of which looked very old. There was a cauldron simmering gently over one of the fireplaces, emitting silvery clouds of smoke. The whole place was a like a cave of wonders, and Remus scarcely knew where to look next.

'Up here!’ Remus looked up to see Bathilda Bagshot leaning over the banister on the top floor. He climbed the stairs quickly, taking care to avoid tripping over the rolled up maps, stacks of books, and unidentified magical devices as he went. The top floor of the tower was cosy and bright, warm with sunshine from the glass roof above. It was haphazardly but comfortably furnished, and Remus was soon sitting on a squishy, velvet sofa. It was a far cry from the class room he'd expected.

Professor Bagshot was a kindly woman, who seemed well suited to her strange, eclectic tower. Though tiny in size, she had an imposing presence, and she regarded Remus keenly through eyes like sea glass. She told him a little about her work - collecting and spreading stories, and how she took on an apprentice every year.

'And when I've finished my apprenticeship, what then?' asked Remus. Already he was finding it difficult to imagine moving on from the Forest.

'That will be for you to decide,' said Professor Bagshot. 'You will know when the time comes.'

That wasn't the most informative answer, but Remus would never be so impolite as to point it out. Instead he asked, 'I was wondering, though, why you asked me?'

'Were you now?' replied Bagshot. She looked at him, her gaze reminiscent of the way Sirius had looked at him the day before, as though she too were staring at the crescent moon on his cheek. 'Perhaps that's something else for you to find out. For today, I'm sure there's something else you would like to learn. Did you have any thoughts about where you'd like to start your lessons?'

'Can you tell me about genies?' asked Remus. He hadn't meant to be so direct, but it really was what he most wanted to know. Besides, it might assist him in helping his father.

Professor Bagshot continued to watch him curiously, but she didn't ask why he wanted to know. 'To understand genies we must return to one of the stories you asked me about before - the story of the Last Great Magical War. Any genie you might meet in these lands is not a true jinn; they are... an approximation of them.'

'They're fake?' asked Remus, remembering how Sirius had warned Remus not to trust him.

'Not exactly,' said Bagshot. 'Genies are cursed. You'll recall that I told you about how the Death King wished to control all magic? Well, he recognised that there were many magic users who had powerful gifts, gifts that he would seek to use to his own ends. He could kill them - and he did kill many of his opponents - but their magic was lost with their lives. And while some could be bribed or bullied into offering their services willingly, many would not. And so he sought a way to allow them to keep their magic, but put it at his disposal. His solution was a curse, a curse that could force the most powerful magic users to become servants, by turning them into genies.'

Remus sucked in a sharp breath. 'So do all genies work for the Death King?'

'No.' Professor Bagshot shook her head. 'Some were made to, of course, but though the Death King managed to curse them from afar, he still had to get hold of each one to employ their services. It was an imperfect tactic from his perspective, because they could easily be commanded by another. Only when the Death King himself caught up with a genie would he be able to commandeer their magic to his will. Both the tasks he sought were usually terrible.'

'Both?' asked Remus. 'I thought genies granted three wishes?'

Professor Bagshot looked at him sadly. 'A genie who can no longer be forced to grant his wishes was no use to the Death King, but they could be troublesome for him. For each of the genies he caught, his final wish was always for their death.'

'Death?’ Remus felt nauseated. He knew the Death King had been guilty of terrible crimes, but somehow this seemed more real, closer than the others he'd heard before. He realised that had Sirius been captured he would’ve been forced to do the Death King's bidding then end his own life, and shuddered. 'But the Death King has gone.'

'He has, but much of the damage he did remains.’ Professor Bagshot's gaze drifted to the window, and the wide expanses of forest below. 'The Forest survives but it still struggles under the Death King's curses. There are many - genies amongst them - who still suffer the fallout from the Death King's use of dark magic.'

Remus got the impression that she was talking about more than genies, but his mind would not be diverted. He thought of Sirius, apparently able to do such extraordinary magic, but never having control of it himself. Remus had always imagined that magic was a gift, but it seemed to have made Sirius into a prisoner.

'Can the curse be lifted?' he asked, half afraid of the answer. The Death King's magic was notoriously powerful.

Professor Bagshot nodded slightly. 'It can,' she said. 'But only with the most exceptionally powerful magic.'

Magic. Of course, it would have to be great magic to overcome the Death King’s curse. Remus tried to ignore his sinking sense of disappointment, and changed the subject by asking for a tour of the tower.

 

* * *

 

Remus wasn’t surprised to see Sirius when he was walking back to the Inn after his lessons. He knew what he wanted, and felt as ready as he ever would to ask Sirius for it. Sirius was standing in a glade, conversing in low voices with a centaur. The centaur had a thick, chestnut coat, with long braids hanging down either side of her face. She had leather armour criss-crossing her chest, a bow slung loosely over her shoulder, and a frown on her face. Remus was too far to hear what they were saying, but it appeared that the centaur was delivering bad news. Despite being shamefully tempted to eavesdrop, Remus held back until the centaur had finished delivering her message, bidding farewell with a curt nod of her head before disappearing into the trees.

‘Hello.’ Sirius’ greeting was sunny and light, and if he was concerned about his conversation with the centaur he gave no sign of it. He strolled towards Remus with his customary grace, smiling like there was nothing else he’d rather be doing.

‘Hi.’ Remus wiped his palms on his trousers, trying to quell the knot of nervous anticipation that twisted in his stomach. He’d been so sure he was ready, but just seeing Sirius seemed to rattle his composure. ‘I’m ready. To make my first wish.’

Sirius nodded, like he’d been expecting it. ‘Go ahead,’ he said, startling Remus by taking Remus’ hands in his own. Stranger still, it did seem to calm Remus’ nerves.

‘My father’s ill,’ said Remus. ‘We think it’s the Sleeping Sickness. I’ve heard there’s a cure but no-one in my homeland knows it. I wish I knew how to treat him.’

Without meaning to, Remus closed his eyes and held his breath, like he was making a wish blowing out candles on a birthday cake. He didn't see Sirius move closer, but he felt the touch of Sirius' lips as he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Remus' mouth. Remus felt like his skin was tingling all over; it must be the magic.

When he opened his eyes Sirius was still very close, and his expression was softer, even kind. 'I know just the person,' he said.

Sirius led him through the Forest, over a bridge that had only dry earth under it, to a cabin beneath a vast white oak tree. In front of the cabin was some sort of herb garden, neatly planted with rows of plants, a few of which Remus recognised - rosemary, sage, parsley - and many more he did not. The cabin itself was made of wood, with a large curved glass window at the front, and a sign reading "Apothecary" attached to the roof. Sirius led the way, a bell tinkling as they entered the shop.

It was brighter inside than Remus had expected, and larger than the local Apothecary back in his village in the Dragonlands. There were countless jars and bottles on slender shelves all around the room, and a heavy wooden counter running down one side. On it sat a range of tools - brass scales, knives, a pestle and mortar, a complex arrangement of copper pipes and flasks that looked rather like the home distillery his Uncle Huw had once rigged up in his grandfather's shed. There were no customers in the shop, just a young woman standing behind the counter, stirring some foul-looking concoction with a look of determination on her face. She was pretty but messy, with a smudge of something on her cheek, and tendril of golden-blonde hair falling down from her scarf.

'Marlene,' said Sirius, as he strolled up to the counter. 'I have a favour to ask.'

The woman - Marlene - looked up and raised an eyebrow. 'And here I was thinking granting favours was your line of work.'

Sirius just laughed, and pushed Remus forwards. 'This is Remus Lupin,' he said. 'He needs to know how to brew the antidote to Sleeping Sickness.'

Marlene's eyebrow travelled even higher. 'Oh, he does, does he?' she said. 'And I suppose he's got the ingredients already? There's a limit to what Dorcas can provide.'

'The Forest has everything we need,' said Sirius. 'Don't worry about all of that. You just teach him how to make it; I'll take care of everything else.'

 

* * *

 

From that evening onwards, Remus called into the Apothecary after his lessons with Professor Bagshot every day. Marlene seemed to have an almost endless knowledge of healing and remedies, and assured him that there was no hurry. From what Remus knew himself of the Sleeping Sickness, he did have time to seek a remedy, but he was still anxious to work as hard as he could and not waste a moment.

Marlene insisted that Remus had to learn the principles of remedy-making before he attempted the antidote for his father. Despite his impatience to get on, Remus could see the sense of it, and he came to enjoy the lessons with her. It was practical and methodical, cutting and slicing, measuring and dicing, and Marlene was pleasant and easy to talk to. Remus found she lived above the shop with Dorcas, who was responsible for the immaculate garden at the front of the property. On several occasions Remus was tempted to ask about Sirius, how it was that Marlene knew him, but he always backed out, wary of overstepping the mark. Marlene was already helping him so much.

He was gaining confidence in his abilities, though still not entirely certain of them, when Sirius showed up at the end of one of his sessions, announcing it was time to start gathering ingredients. He insisted that Remus carry a large flagon of water and a bag full of empty jam jars, though he failed to explain why. Dusk was drawing in and Remus was tired after a double dose of lessons, but under the circumstances he could hardly refuse. Sirius led him away from the path, through dense clusters of ferns, to a muddy, bog-like area.

‘Give me that,’ said Sirius, indicating the water-carrier on Remus’ shoulder. Remus handed it over, glad to be rid of the weight, and was surprised when Sirius upended it and tipped it over the ground.

‘What’re you doing?’ he asked, surprising himself with how cross he sounded. It just seemed like such a waste.

Sirius just huffed and rolled his eyes. ‘You bring the water,’ he said. ‘You know it doesn’t rain here.’

Before Remus had a chance to answer, Sirius bent down and stuck his hands in the mud. There were some rather unpleasant squelching sounds, and then Sirius pulled out the largest, ugliest looking worm Remus had never seen.

‘Get a jar,’ said Sirius, as he held out the repulsive worm-beast. Remus dug around the bag and retrieved the largest jar he could find… but there was no way the creature was going to fit inside. What was Sirius playing at?

Sirius was talking to the worm, murmuring in a low, slow voice, which sounded very much like he was comforting it. Remus shook his head, and held out the jar.

‘We’re not…’ he began uncertainly. ‘We’re not really going to squash it into a jam jar, are we?’

‘What?’ Sirius looked at Remus as though he was the daftest person alive. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

He held the wriggling monstrosity over the jar and, true enough, he didn’t try to fit it in, although what happened next was almost as disturbing. He held onto the worm with one hand, and ran the other hand down the length of its body, appearing to squeeze very gently as he did so. An unpleasant, gooey slime fell from the worm’s body and into the jar, some of it splattering Remus’ hand along the way.

‘Thank you,’ said Sirius – to the worm, not Remus – before setting it back down on the ground. ‘We only need the mucus,’ he said cheerfully as he took the goopy jar from Remus and screwed on the lid.

‘Um, thanks,’ said Remus as he trailed back out of the bog after Sirius, wiping his hands on his shirt. It hadn’t been a particularly pleasant experience, but it was for his benefit, and was glad he hadn’t had to touch the worm at least.

Seeming amused by Remus’ squeamishness, Sirius just turned and raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘Collecting the next ingredient is much more pleasant.’

It was getting dark; the indigo sky above scattered with stars and lit by the waxing moon, sitting low and plump over the horizon. It was beautiful, but an unwelcome sight, so close to full; Remus could’ve done without the reminder. He avoided looking at it, and focused his attention on Sirius instead.

They walked to a part of the Forest Remus hadn’t visited before, through dark, gloomy thickets of bare trees with peeling bark and twisting vines that wrapped around Remus’ ankles and threatened to trip him up. Eventually, the decaying trees gave way to oaks so vast and ancient, they might have been the first things to grow on Earth at all. Beyond the oak trees was a glade, in near darkness now, its inhabitants seeming to glow in the moonlight.

‘Unicorns?’ Remus breathed out the question in a whisper.

‘They are the national animal,’ said Sirius. ‘Come and say hello.’

Just like every other animal he encountered, the unicorns seemed to welcome Sirius, trotting across the grass to meet him, nodding their heads and waiting for him to pat each of their muzzles in turn. Remus wondered what it was that drew them all to Sirius – were animals attracted to genies? He thought that might be a question for Professor Bagshot.

‘Is it OK?’ asked Remus, still holding back. ‘I thought unicorns didn’t like strangers.’

Sirius turned and gave him a thoughtful look. Remus had expected some sort of reassurance that it would be fine if Remus stayed near him, but instead he pointed over Remus’ shoulders. ‘Maybe see if you can find some food to offer them, if you’re worried.’

There were some trees where Sirius had pointed, hazelnut trees Remus noticed as he grew closer. At first glance there didn’t seem to be any nuts on them all – Remus ended up digging deep in between the branches of one tree, practically climbing it in the hope of finding something. He was pulling back, about to give up and look somewhere else when he noticed something; beneath the lower leaves were clusters of small brown nuts, each one wrapped in a frill of green leaf. Once he’d found the first batch, it seemed the tree was covered in nuts, so many Remus wondered how he hadn’t seen them before.

He soon filled his hands and his pockets with nuts, and headed back over to the spot where Sirius was still standing, with only two unicorns now. He put a couple in his palm and held it out, just short of the taller unicorn’s nose. It whinnied appreciatively and munched them straight out of Remus’ hand, the animal’s broad lips and rough tongue feeling damp and tickly. It was exciting though, a real thrill to be so close to a living unicorn, when Remus had only ever seen pictures of them before.

Remus was so caught up in the moment he almost didn’t notice that Sirius had stopped petting and talking to the animals himself, and instead was watching him with rapt curiosity. He didn’t seem interested in the unicorn, or in Remus, focusing only on the little brown nuts Remus held out. ‘Anyone would think you’d never seen a hazelnut before.’

‘Not recently,’ said Sirius. ‘May I…?’

‘Of course.’ Remus passed a hazelnut to Sirius, who took his time unwrapping and eating it. There was something very strange about his expression as he ate; thoughtful and sad.

‘You know,’ said Sirius at last, ‘it’s been a long time since I’ve seen any nuts on those trees. Do you know how you got them?’

Remus shrugged. ‘Just lucky, I suppose,’ he said. ‘It did take me a while. Squirrels had probably got there first.’

‘Hm.’ Sirius frowned, but apparently decided not to pursue the matter. ‘Right, next stage. Hand me another jar.’

Quickly stashing the remaining hazelnuts back in his pockets, Remus did as Sirius asked. After taking the jar, Sirius surprised him by producing a small penknife. He flicked it open, the blade glinting under the moonlight.

'What are you doing?' asked Remus, starting to panic. Surely Sirius wouldn't...?

Sirius laughed. 'We need a little off the horn,' he said. 'If you don't mind?'

That last was addressed to one of the unicorns, which dipped its head obligingly, as though offering its horn to Sirius, who used the knife to scrap a little off the end into the jam jar.

'Thank you,' said Sirius, patting the unicorn’s muzzle. It whinnied and tossed its head, seemingly happy enough. 'Nearly done now.'

After one final stop, when Sirius put his hand in a fire to retrieve a salamander to take a sample of its blood, they had everything they needed. Almost ready to fall asleep on his feet, Remus mumbled his thanks when Sirius walked him to the Inn, and stumbled indoors. Rosmerta was just clearing up, and she offered Remus a nightcap of warm, spiced cider, which he accepted gratefully. She was delighted by the handful of hazelnuts he gave her by way of thanks.

'Haven't had these for a long time,' said Rosmerta, putting away the last few nuts for later. 'The harvests aren't what they were. Since the war, you know.'

Remus nodded; it made sense, with the problems the Forest had with water since the rivers didn't flow.

It was only as he lay down in bed, in the fuzzy space between waking and sleeping, that it occurred to him to wonder why Sirius had sent him to that particular patch of trees to look for nuts, if Sirius himself hadn't been able to find any there. It seemed significant somehow, but there was no time to think on it before exhaustion won and sleep took him.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't long after when Marlene declared that they were ready for Remus to attempt the antidote to Sleeping Sickness. Under her watchful eye he carefully chopped rosemary, mint, and fine slivers of oak bark. Dorcas had produced Mandrake Essence, a thick, gloopy substance that oozed from the bottle and landed in the cauldron with a splash. Remus weighed and re-weighed the quantities of herbs, and tested his ability to pour just a drop of salamander blood from a pipette three times before dropping it into the mix. Even the thoroughly unpleasant mucus from Flobberworm was given meticulous attention. Finally, he sprinkled the mix with a pinch of unicorn horn, and it was done.

'Do you think it will work?' asked Remus, still anxiously debating whether it wouldn't have been a better idea just to wish for the remedy rather than the ability to make it himself. Of course, this would be better in the long run because once he'd learnt he could help other people, but what if part of his education was for his first attempt to fail?

'Yes,' said Marlene. 'I'm sure of it.'

She seemed confident about it, and that helped Remus breathe easier. He ladled some of the pale, lilac potion into a bottle, and tied on a label with instructions for use. Now all he had to do was find Kingsley, and ask to borrow an owl to deliver it to his mother.

It took several days for the owl to reach Remus' home village in the Dragonlands, and two more for the remedy to have any affect. Finally, though, his mother answered Remus' evening mirror call with a wide smile on his face.

'He's awake,' she said, her smile beaming and proud. 'The Healers here say it'll be a little while before he's properly up and about but... you did it, Remus. You saved him.'

Remus just smiled back at her, at a loss for words as he wiped tears from his face. It finally hit him just how worried he'd been, how much he'd invested in this wish coming true. And it had, it really had, and Remus could scarcely believe his good fortune.

Getting to come to the Forest at all had seemed like a dream come true, but now he thought his chance encounter with a genie in the Forest might well have been the best thing that had ever happened to him.


	4. Chapter 4

Remus carried on speaking to his mother every night after dinner, and eventually his father was well enough to talk to him too. He was tired still, his skin dull and ashy, his hair lacking its usual bounce, but he assured Remus that he was well on the mend. Remus was delighted with his progress, happily sharing the news with Kingsley and Rosmerta, who cheered his good fortune with a special dinner and a raucous evening of drinking and singing at the Inn. Marlene breezily assured him that she'd expected nothing less, but seemed pleased and proud, and Dorcas was thrilled with the Spiked Speedwell sampling Remus asked his mother to send by way of thanks. Even Professor Bagshot had been excited, offering Remus a plate of rather stale lavender biscuits by way of celebration.

The person Remus most wanted to thank, of course, was Sirius. Had it not been for Sirius granting his wish, taking him to Marlene and even helping him gather ingredients himself, none of this would've been possible. For the first time since Remus had arrived in the Forest though, Sirius seemed to be making himself scarce. Remus realised, somewhat guiltily, that he didn't even know where Sirius lived. In a lamp? No, that was silly. Up a tree? Ridiculous.

Remus took to spending his evenings and days off lessons with Professor Bagshot wandering aimlessly around the Forest, hoping to run into Sirius. Eventually, he retraced his footsteps back to the spot where he had first seen Sirius. He could just make out the circle of toadstools, the fairy ring surrounding the Hawthorn bush, which was now covered in fruit.

There was no sign of Sirius, but somehow Remus felt instinctively that he would be able to contact him. Trying to put aside his own feelings of foolishness, he found what seemed to be the midpoint of the fairy ring and called out Sirius' name.

'You summoned me?'

Remus turned with a start, to see Sirius leaning against a nearby tree. Sirius didn't look particularly pleased to see him - in fact, he hadn't seen Sirius looking this annoyed since the first time they'd met. Maybe Remus had chosen the wrong place; perhaps Sirius didn't like this part of the Forest for some reason. Although Sirius really did seem to love all for the Forest - maybe it was just Remus he didn't like.

'Look, I haven't got all day, you know,' said Sirius. 'You're not here to make another wish, so what do you want from me?'

'How do you know I don't want to make a wish?' said Remus, briefly tempted to make one up on the spot just to spite Sirius.

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'I just know, OK?' he said. 'So if you don't spit it out in the next five seconds I'm going to be on my way. I'm not your _servant_ , you know.'

'I know that!' said Remus. 'I don't think. I wanted to thank you, actually.'

That made Sirius frown, though he seemed more surprised than angry. 'What for?'

'For helping me,' said Remus. 'I sent the potion to my father and he's getting better. He's going to be OK. I could probably do it again now, if anyone else gets sick. But I couldn't have done it without you.'

'It was your wish,' said Sirius. 'I had to grant it.'

'Yes, but...' Remus started, then trailed off. He'd expected Sirius to be pleased, he'd thought... well, Remus had enjoyed spending time with Sirius, and Sirius had acted like he was happy to help him. Perhaps he was being foolish but he'd started to think of Sirius as a friend. Perhaps Sirius saw things differently. Even so, he had gone to a lot of trouble on Remus' behalf.

'Well, I appreciate it anyway,' said Remus. ‘Even if it is your job, I still appreciate the help.'

'Fine,' said Sirius. 'You're welcome. Are we done now?'

'Yes, I suppose - ' Remus started, but before he could even finish the sentence Sirius had disappeared, seemingly vanishing into thin air. 'Sirius, wait -’

'WHAT?' yelled Sirius, the moment he reappeared. If he'd seemed angry before, it was nothing on how furious he looked now.

It took Remus a moment to realise what had happened, so stunned in the face of Sirius' outrage. 'Did I... did I make you come back when I called your name?'

'What do you think, genius?' said Sirius. 'Does it look like I want to be here?'

Remus took a step back, holding up his hands in what he hoped was a conciliatory gesture. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I didn't know.'

That didn't seem to appease Sirius; if anything, he looked angrier than ever. 'You summoned me,' he said. 'I would think that even a wide-eyed newcomer like you could figure it out.'

'I wasn't trying to summon you, honestly,' said Remus. 'I was just looking for you because I wanted to thank you.'

Sirius tutted but seemed to accept the explanation. 'OK, fine, you didn't know, just don't do it again unless it's an emergency.'

'I only wanted to talk to you,' said Remus, feeling defensive and a little downcast. He really hadn't known, after all.

'Next time just send me a message,' said Sirius.

'How do I do that?'

'Ask one of the animals,' said Sirius. He gestured towards a crow as it flew overhead. 'Birds are best.'

Remus blinked at him. 'You want me to contact you by asking birds to pass on a message?'

'Or bees,' suggested Sirius. ‘Bees are very reliable.’

The whole conversation was one of the more confusing things that had happened to Remus since he'd arrived in the Forest. 'I think you're forgetting,' he said, 'that I can't talk to animals.'

'You're talking to me right now.'

'Yes, but - but,' Remus floundered, wondering if Sirius was being deliberately difficult just to punish him. 'I can't make them understand me.'

'Try,' said Sirius. He glared at Remus, looking perhaps a little less angry, but still frustrated. 'You might actually learn something. Now unless there's something important, I'm actually going to go now and I strongly advise against calling me back, OK?'

Remus just nodded, and didn't bother looking to see how he left.

 

* * *

 

 

'Do you have any books about genies?'

Professor Bagshot put down the quill she'd been using to make notes with and regarded Remus with her customarily beady-eyed stare, the one that made Remus feel like she could see all the way inside his head. He tried not to squirm too much in the face of it. 'Is there a particular reason you'd like to know?'

Remus gestured towards her library in a vague sort of fashion. 'Well, you do have a lot of books.' It was true enough, Professor Bagshot's collection was immense, which was why it was taking so long for them to catalogue and organise it. Most of the books were filled with stories, but there were histories and books about everything from magic and music to plants and planets.

It wasn't a particularly convincing answer, and Professor Bagshot did not look convinced. 'If there's something you want to know, about genies or anything else, you can just ask,' she said. 'You're here to learn, after all. So, tell me, Remus, is this an academic enquiry or a more practical one?'

'Practical,' admitted Remus. 'I met a genie'

'I see,' said Professor Bagshot. ‘In that case, you do well to ask; it’s best to be wary when dealing with a genie. Has this genie offered to grant your wishes?’

Remus nodded mutely.

Professor Bagshot smiled. ‘It’s your business, of course, but I must admit I’m curious about what you might have wished for. That is, if you’ve made your wishes yet.’

‘Just the one,’ said Remus. ‘That was how I learnt how to make the antidote to Sleeping Sickness, by wishing I knew how to cure my father’s illness.’

‘I thought the apocatherist taught you that.’

‘Yes, Marlene’s been great,’ said Remus. ‘He asked her to teach me, and helped me find the ingredients.’

Professor Bagshot frowned, looking rather sceptical. ‘It is more usual for wishes to be granted using magic,’ she said. ‘Did this genie tell you his name?’

It suddenly became clear the Remus that Professor Bagshot doubted whether he’d met a genie at all. Whether she thought he was making up stories or the victim of some sort of practical joke, Remus wouldn’t like to say, but he resented the suggestion anyway. He jutted his chin out defiantly as he answered. ‘His name is Sirius.’

Professor Bagshot still looked dubious. ‘Tell me about him.’

‘He’s beautiful,’ said Remus, and instantly regretted it. He could feel his face warming. ‘Um, he’s tall; black hair, grey eyes. He talks to animals a lot. He’s a bit… moody.’

‘That does sound like him,’ said Professor Bagshot. ‘Always unpredictable.’

‘You know him?’

‘Of course,’ said Professor Bagshot. ‘Everyone in the Forest knows Sirius. He’s our Guardian.’

Remus was so startled he nearly knocked over the pile of books he’d been sorting through. ‘Sirius is a Guardian?’ he said. ‘As in a Guardian of the Forest? Like in the stories you told me?’

‘Sirius isn’t just a Guardian, he’s _the_ Guardian,’ said Professor Bagshot. ‘The only one left.’

Remus cast his mind back to the last story Professor Bagshot had told him before he set out for the Forest, the one about the Last Great Magical War and how the Guardians of the Forest had fought bravely against the Death King, but had lost their battle before his fall.

‘I thought… I’d assumed the Guardians had been killed,’ he said. ‘In the War.’

Professor Bagshot shook her head.

‘So what happened to the others?’

‘One deserted,’ she said. ‘Defected to the Death King.’

‘And the others?’

‘No-one really knows what happened to Lily and James,’ said Professor Bagshot. ‘Shame, really; you’d have been much better off with them as one of your genie than Sirius.’

Remus bristled and bit his lip, before turning his attention back to tidying the Professor’s astronomy texts to avoid answering back. He was too annoyed by the implied slight on Sirius’ character to ask any more questions, or even remember what it was he’d planned to ask about in the first place.

 

* * *

 

When he returned to the Inn that evening, Remus was surprised to find Sirius standing at the bar, chatting and laughing with Rosmerta. He looked far more relaxed than he had been when Remus saw him last, lounging with a tankard in his hand as he talked to Rosmerta like they were old friends. They quite possibly were, Remus thought, once again reminded sharply of how little he really knew about Sirius.

He lingered in a quiet corner by the fire, not quite working up the nerve to approach Sirius after their earlier row, but telling himself it would be rude and petty to just go to his room without have spoken to him. So he found a fork and some bread and made himself toast over the fire as he pretended he wasn’t waiting and hoping that Sirius would come and talk to him.

It was the better part of an hour, and Remus was starting to feel a bit silly, when Sirius finally came over and sat down beside him. He pushed a tankard of warm, frothy ale in front of Remus.

‘A peace offering,’ said Sirius. ‘I was a bit short-tempered before.’

‘Just a bit,’ agreed Remus. It was an understatement, but he was pleased that Sirius was talking to him at all. ‘I’m sure it must be annoying, being pulled around like that against your will.’

‘Just a bit,’ said Sirius, and that was probably an understatement too, but he was smiling so he probably wasn’t too annoyed about it anymore. ‘I forget, sometimes, that you’re new to the Forest, how much you have to learn.’

Remus nodded, trying not to mind that Sirius apparently thought him so ignorant. He wasn’t just being patronising, Remus told himself, it was true that Remus didn’t know much about life in the Forest yet.

‘I’m learning new things all the time,’ said Remus. ‘I only found out today that you’re a Guardian.’

Sirius raised his eyebrows. ‘Marlene didn’t tell you?’

‘I didn’t like to ask,’ said Remus. ‘Professor Bagshot told me that you’re the last Guardian, that you’re the only one left looking after the Forest. That must be hard.’

There was a long silence before Sirius answered, and his expression was so grim that Remus wondered if he’d misspoken again. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘Yes, it is.’

It was an even longer time until he spoke again, the prolonged quiet filled only with the sounds of the crackling fire and the distant clinking of glasses on the other side of the Inn.

‘There were four of us,’ said Sirius. ‘Before the War. Before… always, there were meant to be four Guardians to protect the Forest. Together we could create balance, harmony. Four is a good number for that: four elements, four seasons, four points on a compass…’

‘Four legs on a table?’ suggested Remus.

Sirius smiled. ‘Exactly.’

‘I learnt that all the Guardians represent one of the elements,’ said Remus. ‘Which one is yours?’

‘Take a guess,’ said Sirius, leaning a bit closer.

Remus felt warm. He remembered Sirius picking up the salamander in his hand, and how he’d cooked porridge without turning on the stove. ‘Fire.’

The fire in the grate flared up, flames dancing up towards the chimney.

‘Right first time,’ said Sirius.

‘You must miss them,’ said Remus softly. ‘The other Guardians.’

‘Some of them,’ said Sirius. ‘Your teacher, did she tell you that one betrayed us?’

Remus nodded. ‘She said the rest of you fought bravely, though. It sounded heroic.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ said Sirius. There was another long pause as he stared into the fireplace, and when he spoke again it was so quiet Remus barely heard him say, ‘every day.’

‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job,’ said Remus. He wasn’t sure his opinion really counted for that much, but it couldn’t hurt for Sirius to know that someone appreciated him, could it?

Sirius shrugged, staring into the fireplace and twirling the empty tankard around between his fingers. ‘You’ll be surprised to hear that’s not a universal opinion,’ he said. ‘Apparently some people think I’m not agreeable enough. Can you imagine?’

Remus laughed softly. ‘Surely not,’ he said. ‘Really, though, Professor Bagshot said that I might have been better off with Lily or James but I don’t agree. I’m glad I’ve got you helping me.’

The fire in the grate went out. When Remus turned back to Sirius, his expression was stony.

‘Lily and James won’t be any help to anyone.’

‘What happened to them?’ asked Remus, his curiosity outpacing his good sense once again.

‘I killed them,’ said Sirius. His eyes turned dark. ‘I as good as killed them.’

He got up and was out of the door before Remus could even begin to understand what he had said.

 

* * *

 

It was hard to sleep that night, as Remus kept turning what Sirius had said over and over again in his head. _I killed them. I as good as killed them_ . The two sentences didn’t mean the same thing, and that wasn’t the only part that didn’t make sense. If Sirius was a killer – or an accomplice to a killer – it seemed strange and worrying that he had been left as the sole protector of the Forest. There had been other Guardians before, why hadn’t Lily and James been replaced after they died? Perhaps that was another legacy of the Death King’s magic, maybe they _couldn’t_ be replaced.

After several hours tossing and turning, going over his every interaction with Sirius in his mind, Remus decided it was about time for him to do something. He’d come to the Forest to study, after all, and what could be a more pertinent subject of study that the Forest’s last remaining Guardian? It was about time Remus made a proper effort to find out more about Sirius.

Any personal fascination he felt with Sirius, well. That could wait until later.

 

 

Remus started in the morning with Rosmerta. He remembered how Kingsley had introduced her when they first arrived in the Forest, saying that who and what Rosmerta didn’t know wasn’t worth knowing. Besides, she’d been talking to Sirius the previous evening, perhaps they were friends.

‘I wouldn’t say friends exactly,’ said Rosmerta as Remus helped her set up before the lunchtime rush. ‘Sirius isn’t the easiest person to get along with, and there’s not been many people have been able to get close enough to be considered friends. But we get on well enough, and he’s certainly helped me.’

She gestured around the room, indicating the Inn with a broad sweep of her hand.

‘As a genie, do you mean?’ asked Remus. ‘You wished for this place.’

Rosmerta nodded. ‘And some other things besides, but don’t bother asking because a lady should be allowed some secrets. If you want to know more about Sirius as a genie, though, there’s plenty of other folk round here have dealt with him.

‘And Sirius has helped them all?’ asked Remus, hopefully.

‘Well,’ said Rosmerta. ‘I’d say the results were mixed. If you want to hear the other side, you could speak to Rafferty in the corner there. He’ll give you a less rosy picture than mine.’

Remus thanked her and went over to speak to Rafferty, a sour-looking man with a whiskery beard and a threadbare cloth cap pulled tight over his head.

‘Oh, I know Sirius alright,’ said Rafferty. ‘Thinks he’s so clever that one. It’s all fine and good for him to have everything, but what’s so wrong with someone like me wanting a little extra?’

‘What did he do?’ asked Remus. ‘Did he refuse to grant your wish?’

Rafferty’s scowl deepened. ‘Oh, he granted it alright, only he made sure I could never enjoy it,’ he said. ‘I was sick of my neighbour always boasting about being richer than me – bigger house, nicer clothes, only the finest food – so I wished for a little something of my own. Gold. Not such a terrible thing to ask for, is it?’

There seemed to more to Rafferty’s story than he was letting on, so Remus asked, ‘How much gold?’

‘All the gold in the Forest,’ said Rafferty. ‘Ah, I know what you’re thinking, that was greedy of me, wasn’t it? Well, reckon I did go a bit far, but it’s still no cause for what he did. I got the gold, sure, but it was worthless. This place, and every other shop and business in the Forest now only takes silver coins. Gold? I might as well have paper.’

‘Can’t you take your gold and spend it somewhere else?’

‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ said Rafferty. ‘Only no, see technically I wished for gold _in_ the Forest. The moment I step outside my pockets are empty. I’m no better off now than I was before. Worse, because the gold I had before isn’t worth anything.’

Despite – or maybe because – of Rafferty’s indignation, Remus found it hard to feel very sorry for him. He had been greedy, and it wasn’t as though Sirius had tricked him; he’d been given exactly what he asked for, and if he’d been smarter he’d have seen before that his wish was bound to backfire. He felt a little more sympathy for Rafferty’s similarly aggrieved friend, Otten, who had wished for jewels and precious gems, only to find himself pelted with them and covered in cuts from their razor sharp edges. The gems were precious, but only to the fairies, who refused to trade with Otten as they considered him cursed.

On his way home from Professor Bagshot’s tower, he met a strikingly beautiful woman named Tegan, who told him that Sirius had granted her wish for beauty by changing her appearance so utterly that no-one, not even her own family, recognised her. She should’ve known better than to trust him, she said, after her sister Elodie nearly choked to death on the diamond she wished for. Tegan also introduced him to Sprowle, a giant of a man who lived in a house he’d built himself, as no other dwelling could contain him. Remus didn’t consider himself to be particularly short, but he barely came up to Sprowle’s chest. He’d wished, of course, to be taller.

There were many people whose wishes hadn’t turned out the way they’d expected, though some seemed better resigned to this than others. Remus got chatting to the baker, a slight, cheery fellow called Amodin, who confessed that as a boy he’d foolishly wished for fame. Sirius had granted him the ability to make the finest bread and cakes in the Forest, perhaps all the Unicorn Realm.

‘It’s hard work, and for a long time I was resentful of it,’ said Amodin, as he filled a paper bag with sticky buns for Remus. ‘I’d fancied myself as a famous singer, a celebrated wizard, or a grand dragon-tamer. Who dreams of becoming a famous baker, waking at four to knead dough and bake biscuits? Now, though, I love it. The things I bake make so many people happy, and that makes me happy, too.’

Mackinley, who Remus met in the middle of a field of poppies, surrounded by children collecting flowers, told a similar tale of how he’d wished that girls loved him. And they did – small female children idolised him, much to his initial chagrin. Eventually, he resolved to make the best of it, and took up a teaching position at the small primary school in the Forest. He wished again to be a great teacher for all the children, and it was clear to Remus that the entire class adored him, boys and girls alike.

Every Friday night at the Inn, Carmia sang to rapturous applause. When Remus spoke to her after her set she admitted – in tune – that she’d wished for her voice, and though she could sing like a siren she could _only_ sing, and had eventually learnt sign language because she felt silly buying milk with an aria. It had worked out better than expected when she married a deaf man, though she confessed that she’d resisted the temptation to wish for his hearing to be restored as much out of fear as a willingness to accept the man she loved as he was.

There were many similar stories of being people being given technically what they wished for, if perhaps not what they’d expected. Most of the people whose wishes had gone awry had, Remus noticed, wished for rather selfish, superficial things, like wealth and beauty, or popularity. Perhaps Sirius had been a little harsh on some of them, but he seemed more mischievous than really bad. The fact that he had a tendency to be rather judgemental wasn’t such a surprise, given how haughty Sirius sometimes was.

Rafferty, who had taken to collaring Remus any time he saw him in the Inn to bend his ear about Sirius’ wrongdoing, clearly saw it very differently. In truth Remus had less sympathy for him than many of the others, especially since he’d asked around and learnt from Rosmerta that the man had already been wealthier than most when he made his wish. After several occasions when he’d listened to Rafferty’s complaints politely, Remus finally got fed up.

‘I can see why you’re unhappy,’ said Remus. ‘But Sirius only stopped you becoming rich, he didn’t do you any real harm.’

‘Not like the harm he’s done, at any rate,’ said Rafferty.

Remus struggled to prevent himself from scowling. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You ask around, see what Sirius did to Brennan,’ said Rafferty. ‘Sure it’s easy to blame me when all I wished for was a little gold, but Brennan only ever wanted to save his son. Can’t sneer and call that greedy now, can ye?’

‘What happened?’

‘He killed him,’ announced Rafferty, sounding almost smug about it. ‘Sirius killed the boy.’

‘No,’ whispered Remus, but in the back of his head he heard Sirius’ voice again: _I killed them. I as good as killed them._

Rafferty stopped and knocked back a shot of whisky, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘You don’t believe me? Suit yourself. But poor Brennan left the Forest a broken man, and it’s only the daughter who remains. Dorcas, taken up with the apothecarist, so I hear. Ask her yourself.’

It was several days before Remus actually worked up the courage to go and speak to Dorcas. It seemed rather presumptuous, insensitive even, to just go marching up and asking a lot of questions about what was sure to be a painful subject for her. In the end she took the matter out of his hands. Remus was loitering in the apothecary, wondering if he should sound Marlene out first, when Dorcas came in, wiping her hands on her apron.

‘I hear you’re after news about my brother,’ she said, cutting straight to the chase.

Remus flushed and looked downwards, unsure how to answer her. ‘I, um, know it’s not really any of my business…’

‘No, it’s not,’ agreed Dorcas. ‘Still, come and help me weed the rose garden and I might just tell you about it anyway.’

Nodding his thanks, Remus picked up the spare trowel which hung by the door, and followed Dorcas out into the garden. The roses grew at the far end, past neat rows of herbs, a muddy section containing a squelchy collection of bog plants, and a wild array of long grasses. They worked in silence for a while, pulling out stray tufts of grass and wayward dandelions, tossing them all into a burlap sack.

‘Tristan had been sick for a long time,’ said Dorcas, breaking the silence. She didn’t look at Remus as she spoke. ‘The same illness that took my mother. Long ago, I barely remember her. But the loss of her broke my father’s heart, and to see his child going the same way. Well, I’m sure you can imagine.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ muttered Remus.

Dorcas nodded, and carried on. ‘We tried everything; Marlene tried, Healers, every sort of quack. It was no use though. There was something in his blood, something none of us could touch. And then my father ran into Sirius.’

She stopped and took a deep breath, wiping soil and sweat off her forehead. The beads at the end of her long braids swayed and clattered with the movement. ‘They’d been out for a walk – Tristan couldn’t go far, but he loved the bluebells at the bottom of our lane, and Dad liked to pretend that exercise might improve him. Tristan collapsed, started having some sort of fit, and Dad was frantic when Sirius came along. He must’ve thought all his dreams had come true. A real live genie, the answer to his prayers.’

Dorcas sounded wistful, and Remus hardly dared ask what happened next. He had to know though. ‘What did he wish for?’

‘I’m not sure exactly,’ Dorcas answered slowly. ‘He wanted to make Tristan better, of course, but Tris was screaming and shouting, he was in so much pain. Dad told me, bits of it anyway, I wasn’t there. The first I saw was Sirius carrying Tristan home. He was quiet by then, sort of… blissed out, with this faraway look in his eyes. He fell asleep almost as soon as Sirius laid him down.’

Dorcas’ voice seemed to catch in her throat. Remus was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of everything around them. The chatter of birds in the trees, the rustling grasses further back in the garden, the prickle of sweat on his skin.

‘He never woke up,’ said Dorcas. ‘By morning, Tristan was dead.’

Remus didn’t know what to say. What could anyone say? And yet, he had so many questions.

‘Why are you friends with him?’ he asked. ‘You and Marlene only helped me because Sirius asked you to.’

Dorcas got up, stretching out her arms. ‘You’ve heard that my father believes Sirius killed my brother, practically murdered him. I disagree.’

It was a relief to hear, Remus realised a little guiltily. Dorcas was sharing a genuine tragedy with him; he ought to be focusing on that, not his inexplicable need to see the best in Sirius. He kept trying to remember, though, what Sirius had told him about magic and wishing soon after they met, about how there were some things even the most powerful magic couldn’t achieve.

‘So was Tristan too ill to be saved?’ asked Remus cautiously. ‘Even by magic?’

‘Perhaps.’ Dorcas shrugged. ‘I think it’s something like that, although I doubt I’ll ever know for sure. I do think that Sirius did his best – or what he believed was best for him. Even if it weren’t, he certainly paid the price for it; my father made sure of that.’

‘How so?’

Dorcas twisted her hands in the fabric of her apron, swallowing heavily as she squinted into the sun. ‘I want you to understand that my father wasn’t a cruel man by nature,’ she said slowly. ‘He was driven half out of his mind by grief, and so angry. He lashed out, and wished for Sirius to suffer as my brother had.’

‘Did Sirius get the same illness?’

Dorcas shook her head. ‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘He didn’t really have the illness, and his life was never in danger, but he experienced all the same symptoms. Tristan’s illness was long and very painful. Dad was in a bad way but… it was a cruel thing to do.’

‘Couldn’t Sirius use magic to heal himself?’ asked Remus.

‘He had to grant the wish,’ said Dorcas. ‘He wouldn’t even let Marlene give him any pain relief until James insisted.’

Remus’ ears pricked up at the mention of James. Had Dorcas known him as well? And presumably Lily too. Another day, perhaps he’d ask, but today wasn’t the time to be indulging his curiosity.

‘Your father, how is he now?’ Remus asked instead.

‘Sad. Lonely. He moved away.’ Dorcas turned and offered Remus a small smile. ‘The Forest was too full of memories for him.’

‘You never considered leaving as well?’ said Remus. ‘They can’t have been easy memories for you either.’

‘No, but I have happy memories here too,’ said Dorcas. ‘And Marlene. Besides, the Forest is my home. I can’t really imagine living anywhere else.’

Despite only having lived in the Forest a short while, Remus felt he could understand that.

‘Thank you,’ he said, as he picked up the bag of weeds and followed Dorcas back indoors. ‘You didn’t have to tell me any of that. I’m sure it must be a difficult subject for you.’

‘It’s been years now, it’s not as hard as it once was,’ said Dorcas. ‘And, you know, Sirius is our Guardian and he wanted us to help you… there must be a reason for that.’

Remus flushed, confused as to why someone like Sirius would take an interest in him. Other people in the Forest were more knowledgeable or more skilled, whereas Remus was still woefully ignorant about so many of the ways of the Forest. He couldn’t even do magic.

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine what that might be.’

Dorcas dumped down her tools and turned to face Remus directly. ‘Are you sure you don’t know?’

Her gaze was so sharp that Remus wondered, just for a moment, if she might have found out about his moon curse. But no, it was only Kingsley and Rosmerta who knew about that, and Remus was sure he could trust both of them to keep quiet. He’d spent this only full moon since arriving in the Forest safely bedded down in the basement beneath the Inn, surely Dorcas couldn’t know anything about that?

He shook his head, not quite managing to look Dorcas in the eye. ‘There’s nothing special about me.’

‘Hm.’ Dorcas sounded sceptical. ‘We’ll see.’

 

* * *

 

The Forest was full of animals, ordinary and magical, and Remus had grown used to the sight of them. What he hadn’t quite yet managed to do was to take Sirius’ advice and try talking to any of them. That is, he hadn’t attempted a conversation in the way Sirius had suggested – he’d told lazing tom cats that they were lovely kitties, and assured ponies that they were very handsome – all in the normal, not-expecting-to-be-understood ways that people talked to animals usually.

Remus had been sitting on a tree stump, tossing seeds onto the grass for at least half-an-hour when an usually bold goldfinch flew up and perched on his cuff. He flattened the palm of his hand and laid a few seeds on it; the bird happily hopped across and pecked them up, before turning to look at Remus, twittering joyfully. It was a pretty thing, with a warm beige body and glorious black, white, and yellow on its wings.

‘So, Sirius told me I could talk to you,’ Remus said, feeling supremely foolish. ‘I mean, technically I am talking to you, but I have no idea if you can understand me.’

The goldfinch twittered merrily, its little head bobbing up and down. Was it agreeing, mocking Remus, or completely oblivious to everything Remus said? Remus didn’t have the first idea. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

‘I’d like you to take a message to him,’ Remus went on. ‘Sirius said you could. He reckoned birds were best for delivering messages, and you look like a smart bird. You’ve got very fine feathers.’

Again the goldfinch twittered, and Remus had the impression it was amused by his flattery. Maybe it really _was_ that smart –or maybe Remus’ imagination was playing tricks on him, letting him see what he wanted to see.

‘So, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could find Sirius and tell him I’d like to speak to him? Um, whenever suits him. I’m sure he can find me easily enough, I’m at the Inn most evenings.’

The goldfinch flapped its wings, let out a final trill, and then flew off. It certainly seemed like it knew what it was doing. All Remus could do was wait and hope.

 

* * *

 

Fortunately Sirius didn’t keep him waiting long. He accosted Remus just as he was leaving Professor Bagshot’s tower for the day, looking rather pleased with himself.

‘A little bird told me that you’ve taken my advice,’ he said by way of greeting.

‘The goldfinch,’ said Remus. ‘It delivered my message?’

‘It did,’ confirmed Sirius. ‘Surely you didn’t doubt me?’

Remus smiled grimly; he’d done little but doubt Sirius over the past weeks. Sirius’ claim that he could pass messages via animals was the least of it (and he still wasn’t convinced that the goldfinch _had_ told Sirius that Remus wanted to speak to him – he wouldn’t put it past Sirius to use magic to trick him, just for his own amusement).

‘I thought you wanted me to doubt you,’ said Remus. ‘You did tell me not to trust you, after all.’

Sirius’ expression turned solemn. They both knew that wasn’t the only thing he’d told Remus that might sow the seeds of doubt. ‘I hear you’ve been asking a lot of questions about me.’

‘Well, I’d ask you directly but I’m not convinced I’d get a straight answer,’ Remus shot back.

Sirius held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘You might have a point there,’ he said. ‘But I’ve never lied to you.’

That could be a lie too, of course, though Remus thought it wasn’t. Sirius might be confusing, sometimes deliberately so, but Remus believed he hadn’t been dishonest. It wasn’t the only thing Remus thought he hadn’t done.

‘Were you just trying to frighten me?’ asked Remus. ‘That night… when you talked about your friends. The other Guardians.’

Sirius glanced down, and shook his head sadly. ‘You probably should be,’ he said quietly.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Remus. ‘And I don’t think… have you ever killed anyone?’

‘Not technically.’

For the first time Sirius didn’t seem like a mystery – an all-powerful genie and Guardian, a supernatural being – he just seemed like a person. A deeply unhappy person, and Remus was struck with the sudden urge to reach out and embrace him, to offer Sirius some comfort for whatever he’d lost. Remus couldn’t, wouldn’t believe that Sirius was a killer.

He took a step forwards, so that he was standing right beside him. ‘I’m not frightened of you,’ he said.

Sirius just nodded, and let Remus pass.


	5. Chapter 5

As the days went on Remus’ thoughts continued to turn to Sirius. He was certain now that Sirius hadn’t really killed the other Guardians or anyone else, believing instead that Sirius carried within him a great sadness. He thought back to what Professor Bagshot at told him about the war, the Last Great Magical War, and how all the stories were about victory and defeat, love and loss, and how none of them really dealt with the fate of the survivors.

What happens after a happy ending is supposed to be banal and predictable, but no-one really talks about what happens after the chapter closes on a tragedy either. How the survivors carry on when there’s no happily ever after.

Remus explored deeper into the Forest, finding more of the dark parts and the trees destroyed by the Death King’s curses. In places the land was scorched dry, a dusty emptiness where nothing grew. Others were dark and sinister, where every leaf on every vine seemed ripe with malevolence, like destruction growing in a cruel parody of life. The bleak, desolate parts of the Forest felt like a hinterland between life and death, empty spaces where Remus could almost taste Sirius’ grief in the air.

The sight of all that damage reminded him of the potential for destruction he carried within himself, with the affliction of his moon curse.

Remus’ thoughts were in danger of taking a melancholic turn, but his studies with Professor Bagshot kept his spirits up. She was pleased with his progress, and allowed him to take an increasing role in her work spreading stories. Sometimes he even got to tell the stories himself, sitting curled up in front of one of Professor Bagshot’s many fireplaces. He could imagine children sitting and listening, entranced as he once had been, by tales of magic and adventure from across the world.

‘You’re doing well at this,’ said Professor Bagshot after Remus finished telling a lonely 7-year-old about the Prince who was saved from kidnappers because his beloved had insisted he learn the trade of carpet weaving. ‘The children like listening to you.’

Remus smiled, genuinely happy. He found he enjoyed sharing stories even more than he enjoyed learning them. Sometimes he wondered, a touch hopefully, if Professor Bagshot was training him to take over from her when she retired. It was a job Remus thought he would enjoy very much, but whenever he hinted at the subject of his future she brushed him off, telling him to wait and see what fate had in store for him.

‘It’s fun,’ said Remus. ‘Hearing what the children have to say for themselves, telling stories.’

‘And what about your own story?’ asked Professor Bagshot. ‘I hope you don’t mind an old woman prying, but I’m intrigued to know how you are getting on with your genie. Have you made any more wishes?’

Remus shook his head. ‘His name is Sirius, you know.’ He paused before continuing, ‘I got the impression that you don’t like him very much.’

Professor Bagshot took her time answering, taking a sip of her tea first. The cup rattled as she set it down in the saucer. ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ she said carefully. ‘I would advise caution around him, although… I don’t think Sirius will harm you.’

Once again Remus felt a rush of indignation on Sirius’ behalf, tempered by confusion as to what his teacher was actually getting at. He said nothing though, simply nodded his head curtly.

‘You haven’t told me if you’ve made another wish,’ said Professor Bagshot. ‘Is that because you haven’t or because you don’t want to tell me it? Feel free to tell me to keep my nose out if you’d rather.’

Remus chuckled at that, unable to imagine doing anything so rude. ‘I haven’t made any more wishes,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I should wish for.’

‘Really?’ Professor Bagshot raised an eyebrow, her beady gaze once again trained on Remus, making him feel rather like a bug under a microscope. ‘Is there nothing about yourself you’d like to improve – nothing to enhance or be rid of – that magic can attain? In which case I must congratulate you, Remus. You have a more phlegmatic disposition than most of us.’

‘Well,’ Remus demurred, ‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly.’

‘Perhaps you don’t want to use a wish on yourself? You imagine that to be selfish.’

‘A little,’ admitted Remus. Was that such a bad thing? As a non-magic user himself, Remus had never known power like this. How could he justify using it to his own ends when someone else might have much greater need of it?

‘An attitude that does you credit,’ said Bagshot approvingly. She took another large slurp of her tea. ‘But perhaps not one to be taken to extremes. You’d do well to remember sometimes that which benefits you might also benefit others.’

It was a fair point, Remus supposed. He’d wished to gain knowledge himself to help his father, and that had worked out very well. Perhaps there was a way he could wish to make himself capable of helping others. There was a part of him, a part that he was loathe to admit to, even to himself, that considered wishing for magical powers of his own. But no, that would be unspeakable selfish, and dangerous to boot.

Professor Bagshot leant forward, her keen gaze still trained on Remus. ‘Perhaps some self-reflection would help,’ she suggested. ‘Take a look inside yourself.’

Not for the first time Remus wondered if the professor knew about his moon curse. The only downside of life in the Forest was that people did seem to look at him as though they could see the crescent moon on his face, something that for most of his life everyone else had overlooked.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Remus non-committedly, as he set about gathering up the tea things ready to beat a hasty retreat.

 

* * *

 

The answer was obvious, of course, much as Remus had been avoiding it. Ridding himself of the moon curse was the best thing he could do. It was dangerous, and surely only a matter of time before he harmed someone else with it. Wolves were wild animals, not to be toyed with, and not to be trusted. Secretly, shamefully, some part of him had resisted this, but he couldn’t do so any longer.

A bumblebee buzzed softly in the afternoon sun, fat and drowsy.

‘Find Sirius for me, please’ Remus asked it. ‘Tell him I’m ready.’

* * *

 

Remus was dawdling by the oak tree near the spot were Sirius had explained the rules of wishing to him the day after they met. The sky was a dusty indigo, dark with the approaching evening, and the long grasses and bushes rustled with awakening crepuscular beasts. There was still light enough for Remus to see clearly, though he could feel with the chill in the air that would not last much longer. It seemed fitting; a changing hour, as Remus balanced on the edge.

‘You’re getting better,’ said Sirius, startling Remus who hadn’t heard him approach.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Today’s message came directly, without any wittering about whether or not it would work,’ said Sirius. ‘You’re growing more at ease with the Forest.’

It was true that Remus had spoken to the bumblebee without feeling foolish or concerned, but he hadn’t realised this might mean he was starting to fit in with the Forest better; he found he liked the idea very much. He smiled, and realised Sirius seemed less tense than he had the last time they’d spoken.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you before. I should think more before asking so many questions – I expect I brought up a lot of unhappy memories.’

‘They’re never far,’ said Sirius, smiling sadly. ‘It’s nice of you to ask, but there’s really no need. You’re not responsible for me.’

Remus opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again when he realised he didn’t have an argument. Sirius knew and could do so much more than him; of course he didn’t need Remus looking after him. Except… doesn’t everyone need a bit of that, sometimes?

‘I was concerned about you,’ he said, quiet and uncertain if this was even allowed.

Sirius smiled. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said. ‘But I’m a Guardian; it’s my job to worry about everyone else in the Forest, not be a cause of concern to newcomers.’

Something about being referred to as a “newcomer” – as though he were simply one of many – made Remus bristle instinctively. _I don’t care about what anyone else does_ he thought to himself, _I want to care for you_. He didn’t say anything, though, wary of starting another disagreement with Sirius, and uncertain where these thoughts were coming from.

‘Anyway, you didn’t want to meet with me just to chat about my welfare,’ Sirius went on. ‘You said you were ready. Do you want to make a wish?’

Remus nodded, swallowing uncomfortably. ‘I’m cursed,’ he said, not quite managing to look Sirius in the eye. ‘I think that’s what it is, anyway. Every month… I call it my moon curse.’

Slowly, Sirius reached out and placed his forefinger beneath Remus’ chin, gently tilting his head up so that Remus had little choice but to look at him directly. Sirius’ eyes were dark and intense, and seemed to be staring directly at the crescent moon on Remus’ cheek.

‘Do you… can you tell?’ asked Remus. There was something about the way Sirius looked at him that made him feel naked, exposed, like an open book.

Once again Sirius didn’t answer directly, just stroked his thumb across Remus’ cheek with heart-breaking tenderness. ‘Why do you call it a curse?’

Remus pulled back, surprised. ‘My grandmother called it a blessing,’ he said. ‘Did you know?’

‘I didn’t,’ said Sirius. ‘But she was right.’

‘No.’ Remus took a step back, annoyed. How could it be a blessing, to lose control of his body, his mind, every month? To be taunted so regularly by magic despite never being able to use it? ‘I don’t want it. I hate it, I _hate_ it and I wish – ’

‘DON’T!’ Sirius yelled loud enough for the birds in the oak tree to take flight, and he stepped forward, raising his arm so that his hand was almost covering Remus’ mouth.

‘Don’t what?’

‘Just don’t.’ Sirius pulled his arm back with some reluctance. ‘You need to be careful what you wish for, remember?’

Remus stared back at him, wondering how on Earth he’d managed to provoke Sirius’ temper this time. Only… Sirius didn’t seem angry. He was frightened. Remus’ heart thudded in his chest; this was something big, something important, but he didn’t know what it was.

‘I don’t understand,’ he admitted. ‘Why don’t you want me to get better?’

‘Because you wouldn’t be –’ Sirius backed away as he broke off, running his hand through his hair. ‘You asked about me, yeah? Asked around the Forest about people I’d granted wishes to. Do you remember what happens to people who try to change themselves?’

It sounded more like a riddle than an explanation, but Remus did his best to remember anyway. Tegan, whose wish for beauty had made her a stranger to her own family. Sprowle, who had grown absurdly tall. Carmia couldn’t hold a normal conversation. She’d made the best of things, has had Amodin and Mackinley, in the end.

‘Things didn’t turn out the way they expected,’ said Remus dully. He looked back at Sirius, bitter resentment rising in his throat. ‘Is that what you’re going to do to me?’

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’m just trying to warn you.’

‘Really?’ said Remus. ‘It sounds like you’re threatening me.’

‘I’m not, you don’t understand – ’

‘Then tell me!’ Remus was only vaguely aware that he was shouting now. ‘Explain to me properly. I’m tired of having to work out your puzzles and half-truths. I don’t understand magic and I don’t know the Forest like you do, and I don’t know how to make that any better if you won’t just _tell_ me!’

‘I can’t…’ Sirius turned around, kicking at the grass. When he turned back to Remus he seemed to be struggling to control his frustration. ‘I told you before, I’m not supposed to help you at all. Bending the rules is one thing but at the end of the day you have to work things out for yourself. I can‘t spell it all out for you.’

‘Right. And you can’t tell me why you’re so horrified that I might want to improve myself.’

It was Sirius’ turn to be confused. ‘Who says you need to improve yourself? You’re fine the way you are.’

Remus bit his lip. “Fine” wasn’t exactly the highest praise, but there was still something nice about hearing that Sirius didn’t think there was anything wrong with him. Sirius knew about his curse, had perhaps known all along, and it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. Knowing that made it harder to argue, for all Remus was ashamed and disgusted by it.

‘It’s just…’ he began quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. ‘I hate having to lock myself away. But I don’t want to risk hurting anyone. It’s all well and good for you to say I shouldn’t change myself, but I can’t see any other way.’

It felt like giving in, maybe even giving up, but apparently it was the right thing so say. Sirius took another step towards him, slowly this time, and when he spoke again he didn’t sound horrified or angry. ‘Then don’t tell me what you think you have to do,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me what you really want.’

‘I don’t want to hurt anyone,’ said Remus. ‘Or to be afraid of hurting anyone. And I don’t want to keep having to lock myself in cellars to avoid it.’

‘Go on.’

‘I wish…’ Remus closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. ‘I wish I could make sure I didn’t harm anyone without having to lock myself away every month.’

Sirius leant in silently, his hands cupping Remus’ face as he pressed their lips together. The kiss was a little longer, more intimate than the last, and Remus found himself started to respond just as Sirius drew back.

‘Well done,’ he said softly.

Remus opened his eyes and saw Sirius looking at him, his expression tender and approving. He felt his face grow warm and pulled away, flustered. ‘How will I know if it’s worked?’

‘It’ll work,’ Sirius assured him. ‘I’ll take care of that.’

And somehow, despite all Sirius’ games and his own insistence that he wasn’t to be trusted, Remus felt comforted, certain that Sirius would make it all OK.

 

* * *

 

The full moon wasn’t for another week, and Sirius refused to be drawn on exactly how Remus’ wish would be granted until it came. In the meantime Remus carried on attending lessons with Professor Bagshot, occasionally helping Kingsley with balancing the books, and exploring the Forest. He went on his own, often, and sometimes with Dorcas, who pointed out more varieties of plants and flowers than he ever thought he’d remember. Sometimes, when Remus was lucky, Sirius went with him.

They walked along a long, empty riverbed deep into one of the quietest parts of the Forest. There were no proper paths, no houses or people, just a dense cluster of ancient birch trees. The canopy of trees cast dappled light on a hazy violet carpet of bluebells, their fragile stems standing bold and beautiful in the shade.

Remus managed to get Sirius to open up a little by asking more about the Forest – he avoided touchy subjects like the War or the other Guardians, and instead learnt about raucous nights at Rosmerta’s Inn, turf wars between red and grey squirrels, and some embarrassing anecdotes he’d be able to tease Kingsley about when he got back from his latest job. In turn, Sirius asked about how Remus’ lessons with Professor Bagshot were progressing.

‘Aren’t bedtime stories meant to make children settle down?’ said Sirius. ‘I’m sure you couldn’t send them to sleep.’

‘Well, I hope I don’t _bore_ them to sleep anyway,’ said Remus. ‘I’d like to give them something interesting to dream about though.’

‘That sounds nice.’ Sirius leant back on a ridge of earth, surrounded by bluebells. ‘Tell me a story.’

Remus laughed as he sat down beside him. ‘What would you like a story about?’

‘I like animal stories.’

‘No wolves.’

‘OK.’ Sirius grinned. ‘How about a nice dog?’

‘I do know a story about a dog,’ said Remus. ‘But he isn’t very nice.’

Sirius stretched out on the Forest floor, his hands folded behind his head. He almost looked like he was floating on a sea of flowers. ‘A bad dog story it is, then.’

‘Very well. This story comes from far away, like my grandfather and his father before him, and their mothers too. The story is about Dog, and about Rabbit, but it starts with Tiger. Tiger was large and fierce, and most of the other animals preferred to keep their distance. She lived on an island in the middle of the river, it was lush and beautiful, with plenty of room for neighbours, but none liked to get too close.

‘But Tiger was not always alone. Though she was known to be boastful and bad-tempered, she threw the best parties in the jungle, with music, and dancing, and the finest food for miles around. Tiger loved parties so much she forgot her own ill moods and let everyone enjoy themselves. It was said that on a good night field mice could dance between her toes and Tiger would only laugh because they were tickling her.

‘So when news came that Tiger was planning a party, everyone was excited. Rumours ran rife about what she had planned, with talk of fireworks, and fancy food, and endless fountains of good things to drink. One quiet morning Tiger snuck across the river to deliver her invitations before the sun had even rubbed the sleep from its eyes. When they read their post there was great celebrating by Sheep and Goat, Rhino and Buffalo, Bull, Boar, and even a Beetle. But not all the animals were so pleased.

‘“Where’s my invitation?” asked Cat, frowning through long whiskers. The same occurred to Monkey, Owl, and Armadillo. Dog and Rabbit searched under their doormats to no avail. It took most of the morning for the animals to work it out together.

‘Parrot squawked and called for hush. “Tiger has only invited the beasts with horns,” said Ape. “The rest of us will have to stay at home.”

‘“It’s true, it’s true, I’ve got horns, look at me,” sang Antelope as he skipped by, earning angry stares from the other animals.

‘Dog and Rabbit trudged towards home, feeling very downhearted. On the way they met Goat, who was dancing and kicking up her hooves with joy. Dog and Rabbit both glared at her jealously, wondering how silly old goat came to be chosen over them. She kept boasting about her horns, and how much fun she was going to have at the party.

‘“Maybe you should ask the blacksmith to make some horns for you,” said Goat, bleating as she scurried on.

‘Dog growled at her departing figure, but Rabbit was deep in thought. “You know, that’s not such a bad idea,” he said. “Blacksmith probably still has the horns from his favourite goats which died last year.”

‘It seemed like an unlikely plan, but Dog didn’t have a better one, so off they both went. Happily, blacksmith did still have the horns, and was willing to help out for the promise that they’d bring him back a large slice of cake. The only problem was that fitting horns to the head of a dog is a tricky task, but attaching them to Rabbit seemed nearly impossible. The horns were large and heavy for such a small head, and Rabbit’s long ears got in the way.

‘The blacksmith got to work on Dog first, carefully measuring and balancing, trying to hold the horns in place with clips and a length of leather. Rabbit hopped about impatiently as the blacksmith worked, telling Dog not to be so fussy about how comfortable his horns were. If the blacksmith didn’t get a move on, Rabbit wouldn’t even have any horns to complain about!

‘Finally, the blacksmith was done and ready to move on to Rabbit. Dog was very pleased with himself, strutting about the blacksmith’s workshop and admiring his reflection in every shiny surface he passed. Rabbit was rather less happy, as the blacksmith struggled to fit the horns to his head. One way they slipped down his face, another they fell off the back of his head. The horns were heavy and awkward, and even when the blacksmith had spent a long time filing them down to make the job easier, it was very difficult to fit them around his ears.

‘“Hurry, hurry,” said Dog as the sky outside grew dark. It was his turn to be impatient now. “If we don’t leave soon we’ll miss the boat.”

‘The blacksmith did his best, but with minutes to go until the boat to Tiger’s island was due to leave, Rabbit’s false horns remained stubbornly unattached. Reluctant to leave his friend behind, but even more unwilling to miss the party, Dog finally decided to leave, reasoning there was no point in both of them missing out. Rabbit was fed up, but powerless to stop him, and could only seethe and try to keep still as the blacksmith worked.

‘Finally, finally, it was done, and Rabbit had his own pair of – rather wonky – horns. Careful not to upset them, he walked as briskly as he could down to the riverbank, just in time so see the boat, rowed by Tiger herself, pulling away. Antelope was there, and Gazelle, along with Goat, Moose, and Deer. And there, in the middle of it wall, was Dog, crouching down at the back of the boat, clearly hoping no-one would notice him, or think to question how he had grown horns since the morning.

‘If Rabbit had been angry before, he was furious now. Dog might at least have asked Tiger to wait for him! Hopping mad, he ran along the riverbank, calling out to Tiger as loudly as he could. “That’s Dog, that’s Dog! You’ve got a dog in your boat!”

‘“A dog?” Some of the animals glanced around, a few of them looking at Dog, who refused to meet anyone’s eyes. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “No dogs here. Dogs don’t have horns.”

‘That was very true. Dogs do not have horns, all the animals agreed. Tiger rowed on.

‘“Tap his horns!” Rabbit yelled at the top of his voice, desperate to be heard by the departing boat.

‘All the animals thought it seemed a very strange thing to do. Tap his horns – but why? They were all in such a good mood, perhaps it was a party game. Laughing, the animals all tapped their own horns, and then each others’. It seemed like a very silly game, until someone wrapped their hooves on Dog’s horns. They rang hollow on the first knock, and slid across his head with the second.

‘“Those aren’t real horns!” the other animals cried. “Rabbit was right – you _are_ Dog!”

‘Tiger roared – she hated being tricked. In an instant, Dog jumped up and over the side of the boat, landing with a splash in the river before swimming to the side as fast as his paws would take him. All the animals in the boat, even Tiger, were soon laughing fit to burst at the sight of him paddling away, his fake horns hanging higgledy-piggledy around his ears.

‘It was a very funny sight, and all the animals but two enjoyed the spectacle very much. Dog himself, of course, did not find it amusing, and Rabbit wasn’t laughing for long either. Realising that Dog was coming for him, Rabbit ran, and hopped down the nearest hole to avoid Dog’s snapping jaws.

‘And that,’ Remus finished, ‘is why rabbits always run and hide when they see a dog.’

‘Should think so too,’ said Sirius, propping himself up on his elbows. ‘Nasty little tattle-tale.’

He seemed cheerful, though, so Remus didn’t think he felt that strongly. ‘Perhaps Dog shouldn’t have run off and left Rabbit like that in the first place.’

‘Fair point,’ agreed Sirius. ‘You did say he was a _bad_ dog.’

He rolled towards Remus, crushing several bluebells and releasing a burst of cool, fresh perfume. He seemed more normal, more touchable than he often did, and Remus was glad to be getting to know him as Sirius, a person, rather than his genie or the Guardian. For once he seemed genuinely relaxed and happy, looking at Remus with quiet affection rather than his customary curious stares, infuriating smirks, or general frustration. Sirius was close enough that Remus could count his eyelashes, so close he could almost feel Sirius’ breath against his own lips.

‘Tell me another,’ said Sirius, shaking Remus out of his reverie.

‘OK,’ agreed Remus. He was getting good at it, and it seemed to make Sirius happy. ‘What sort of story do you want this time – comedy or tragedy? Adventure or romance?’

‘Not tragedy.’ Sirius screwed up his face in distaste. ‘I don’t mind so much about the rest, but make it a happy ending. Happy endings are what stories are _for_.’

Remus was ready to tell him what Professor Bagshot says about how there are lessons to be learnt from unhappy tales, but stopped himself short. The little he knew of Sirius’ life made it plain to see why Sirius would want to hear something happy. Besides, in his heart of hearts, he agreed – given free reign, Remus would pick a happy ending every time too.

‘Sometimes how happy it is depends on where the story ends,’ said Remus. ‘And who’s telling it.’

‘That’s true,’ agreed Sirius, settling himself back down on the ground, face turned upwards and eyes closed, like he really was ready to sleep. ‘You’re telling this story, so I trust you to make it good.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Remus, pausing to push a stray lock of hair back off Sirius’ face. ‘This is a story from my home, the Dragonlands. Not every telling ends well, but this one will. It’s about a woman named Branwen, and her brothers, and the starling she taught to speak…’

 

 

When the day of the full moon came, Sirius still hadn’t told Remus how he was going to grant his wish. He was waiting in the path when Remus came out of Professor Bagshot’s tower, feeling weary and apprehensive, unable to stop himself casting furtive glances to the sky.

‘Come with me,’ said Sirius, before turning and walking away, leaving Remus little choice but to follow him. Together they walked deep into the Forest, further than Remus had been before. Unsurprisingly Sirius knew a thousand short-cuts and gaps in hedges, and he led Remus through dense vegetation. As they walked, Remus saw fewer and fewer signs of human population, and increasing evidence of the Death King’s curses. They went through thickets of blackened and burnt out trees, thorny bushes, and twisted vines that looked like living curses. Remus had seen some damaged parts of the Forest before, but nothing as dark and bleak as the parts Sirius led him through – he privately felt sure he’d have been frightened to travel this way alone.

Eventually they came to what looked like a wall of dark, thorny plants, with no obvious way past. Sirius simply raised his hand and burnt a gap large enough for them to walk through. Stepping through the charred remains was like walking into a secret garden; Remus found himself in a meadow full of wildflowers. In the distance, trees of all varieties stood tall and proud.

‘This is the heart of the Forest,’ said Sirius. ‘No dark magic has ever touched it.’

He led Remus through the meadow, to a well which sat beneath the only a single tree; a large pear bedecked with fragrant blossom. Remus peered into the well, wondering if there was any water at all in its dark depths.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Why have you brought me here?’

Sirius paused, and took Remus’ hands in his own before answering. ‘I know I told you not to, but just this once I want you to trust me,’ he said.

Remus nodded despite his nerves. He might not always understand what Sirius was up to, but Sirius had never let him down so far.

‘Stay here, and don’t worry,’ said Sirius.

‘I’ll try, at any rate,’ said Remus. They hadn’t seen any other people for a while, but the wolf could run far and fast. ‘But you really need to leave.’

‘I’ll see you soon.’ The mischievous smile was there again, lighting up Sirius’ face just for a moment, and then he was gone.

Remus was alone in an unfamiliar part of the Forest – he felt perhaps he ought to have been more afraid, but there was a part of him that was intrigued as to what Sirius had planned. Maybe here the magic of the Forest would protect him, and he wouldn’t become a wolf. Or perhaps at least it would hold him here, containing him in a larger cage than the ones he’d built for himself.

Darkness fell, and Remus could feel the tug of the moon on his bones. Although he was sure that Sirius would honour his promise and Remus didn’t have to worry about hurting anyone, the loss of control was still frightening. The final hour, before the change, was always the worst, the creeping inevitability of losing control of his mind and his body, fully aware of what was about to happen to him but powerless to stop it.

The plump full moon shone full, ripe and luminous in the sky, casting mellow light across the meadow. Remus scrunched up his eyes, unwilling to watch as his own body shrank and disappeared, reforming against his will. His helpless desperation made it hard to breathe but he knew, at least, that the fear would be gone with his mind.

A loud bark made him open his eyes. Standing metres away was a large, black dog which Remus had never seen before. At least, he thought the dog was black… it was dark, and the Forest was all sharply-defined monochrome. Remus sniffed the air and was soon overwhelmed by the scents of the Forest – pine, flowers, loamy earth, and fresh grass. He could smell mushrooms, and squirrels, and _dog_. The dog barked again, a joyful yip, and Remus bounded over to it, tail-wagging with newfound excitement.

The dog ran with him round and around the meadow, and after a while they were joined by other animals. A sleek, russet-coated doe dashed into the meadow, followed by a lively stag. They were both greeted by a cacophony of barks from the dog, and seemed ready and eager to play.

The wolf yipped and howled, running free for the first time, chasing rabbits and running races with his new friends, under the silvery light of the magical Forest.

 

* * *

 

Remus woke up in an unfamiliar room. He was lying on a plump sofa, tucked up under a quilt. The room he was in wasn’t large, but it was comfortable and welcoming. It felt like someone’s home, and he realised he hadn’t been in a proper home since he’d left the Dragonlands. Rosmerta’s Inn was cosier than most, and she allowed him to fill his room with maps, books, and plants, but it was still an Inn. The room was bathed in half-light, meaning it must have been early dawn. Remus forced himself up to his feet, curious to explore his new surroundings.

He didn’t have to look far to find Sirius, sleeping in an armchair beneath the window. Feeling like an intruder, but unable to stop himself, Remus crept towards him. Sirius seemed to have fallen asleep with a blanket over him, but it had slipped down and lay in a puddle on his lap. His shirt was hanging loose, allowing a slight glimpse of his chest. Remus nearly gasped out loud when he saw it – a cascade of stars across Sirius’ skin, pale and luminous. They looked very like the crescent moon on Remus’ cheek, and he was possessed with a sudden urge to reach out and touch them.

Temptation was avoided when Sirius let out a sleepy little grunt, twisting in his sleep. Remus backed away, studiously looking the other way as Sirius awoke.

‘Morning,’ said Sirius, once he’d finished stretching and yawning and, Remus noticed, covering up the marks on his skin. Why had he hidden them? What did they mean? Could they – was it too much to hope for – might the fact that they both bore similar marks signify some connection between the two of them?

‘Good morning,’ said Remus, glancing over at him.

Sirius got up and made them breakfast, tea and crumpets he toasted with a flame in the palm of his hand. Remus wondered if perhaps he was showing off a little.

‘So,’ asked Sirius. ‘Did you have a good night?’

Remus nodded. He really had. It had been… well, it had been like nothing he could’ve ever imagined. ‘Amazing.’

Sirius nodded, seeming pleased. ‘It can be like that every time,’ he said. ‘As long as you stay in the Forest.’

The caveat didn’t seem entirely in the spirit of his wish, but Remus didn’t care to argue – it wasn’t like he could imagine ever wanting to leave the Forest anyway.

‘Is this your house?’ he asked instead.

After a moment’s thought Sirius crossed over to the fireplace and picked up a framed photograph which he passed to Remus. It showed Sirius with a smiling redhead and a man with the messiest hair Remus had ever seen.

‘I know you’ve been curious about the other Guardians,’ he said. ‘That’s Lily and James.’

‘You all look so happy,’ said Remus. They really did – Sirius in the picture wore a carefree grin that Remus had never seen on the man he knew.

‘And we were,’ said Sirius. ‘Most of the time. Sometimes.’

He accepted the photograph as Remus passed it back to him, but instead of replacing it on the mantelpiece he walked over to the sofa and sat down, still staring at it. Glancing up briefly, he gestured for Remus to sit beside him.

‘Do you feel like talking about them?

Sirius frowned at the photograph in his hands, and nodded. ‘My brother, James – I’m adopted,’ he said, in answer to Remus’ questioning look. ‘He was the Guardian of the air. People used to say he taught the birds how to fly. James was brave, and good, and he would do anything for the people he loved, and anything for the Forest.

‘Lily was the Earth Guardian. She was my best friend, and the kindest, best person I ever knew. She was the last to join us here in the Forest, early on in the War, but I’d already been cursed. The first day we met she asked me if I liked being a genie and when I told her no, she wished for my freedom.’

‘It didn’t work?’ asked Remus.

‘So you see,’ said Sirius. ‘Lily had the calling, though, and she joined us in the Forest. You might think it's beautiful now but, oh, it was so wonderful then. With four Guardians the Forest flourished, and even with the War raging we never really felt like it could touch us. We were so sure of ourselves, so certain in the rightness of our cause that we didn’t think anything could defeat us, not even the Death King.’

Sirius broke off, and swallowed heavily.

‘What happened?’ asked Remus.

‘The Death King had many servants. One of them was a school friend of Lily’s. The perfect cover, she was… you know how sometimes really good people don’t understand the bad, because they just don’t have any of that darkness in them? Well, that was Lily. Always too kind for her own good. So this… person… Severus, he got to Lily, and he unleashed the Dark King’s curse upon her. That was how she became a genie. And that was how he was able to take her from the Forest.’

Remus listened, hardly daring to breathe. ‘Do you know what he wished for?’

‘Power, I think,’ said Sirius. ‘I expect so, anyway. That was one of the things he wanted most.’

‘And the other?’ said Remus. ‘What else did he do?’

‘The worst thing you can do to a genie,’ said Sirius. ‘The absolute worst. He wished for her to fall in love with him.’

Remus sat in stunned silence as Sirius, apparently having found the effort of telling the story too much for him, cast the picture aside and got to his feet.

‘Sirius, I’m so…’

‘No, it’s alright.’ Sirius shrugged, but seemed unable to look at Remus. ‘Look, I have to go. You stay here as long as you want. Any one of the animals will guide you home.’

And then, before Remus had a chance to respond, he was gone, leaving Remus alone and confused once more.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Remus made his way back from the little house, which was right in the heart of the Forest, near the blossoming pear tree where Sirius had left him the previous evening, as dusk approached. It was a long walk, and he turned to a surprisingly friendly badger for assistance to find his way back. The walk gave him plenty of time to think, turning the previous night and morning’s events over and over in his mind. There was no denying that his wish had come true, albeit in a way he would never have imagined. That his moon curse could be assuaged by allowing the wolf to play deep in the Forest with other animals would never have occurred to Remus, and he could see that being able to do so every month might take away some of the fear the full moon held for him. He was grateful beyond words for it.

Sirius himself though… Remus wondered if he would ever understand him. Ever since Remus had made his second wish he’d felt that he’d been growing closer to Sirius, and then Sirius had opened up enough to tell him a little about Lily and James. It had felt like Sirius was learning to trust Remus, that maybe he saw him as a friend. Remus nursed a fragile hope that maybe there was something between them, fuelled by his memory of the stars scattered across Sirius’ chest, so easy to see as a counterpoint to the moon on his own cheek.

‘Don’t go getting your hopes up,’ Remus muttered to himself as the distant spire of Bagshot’s tower came into view, and he knew he was back in familiar parts of the Forest once more. He remembered Sirius’ expression growing cold just before he disappeared _again_ , and kicked a pinecone down the path in frustration. It was maddening, this merry dance that Sirius kept leading him, forwards and back, near and then far, and Remus wondered if it would ever be over.

 

* * *

 

It was time, Remus decided, to find out more about the Last Great Magical War. He knew that learning history is essential to understanding the present; he couldn’t hope to know Sirius without finding out more about his past. This time he broached the subject directly with Professor Bagshot, who didn’t seem surprised. More like she was relieved that he had finally asked.

‘I first met Lily when she was a little girl,’ said Bagshot. ‘At least, that’s when I first spoke to her. I didn’t see her until later.’

‘You told her stories, down the chimney?’ Remus sat up straighter, intrigued. ‘Did you invite her to the Forest too?’

Bagshot shook her head. ‘Lily found her own way here. There are many paths to the Forest. It was a good day for the Forest when she became a Guardian.’

‘I thought there were always four Guardians?’ said Remus. ‘Before the War, anyway.’

‘The Forest is safest in the care of four,’ explained Bagshot. ‘You must remember that the Forest is ancient and there have been many Guardians over the years. There have been other times when their numbers were reduced, as Guardians came and went. Some died, some were taken, and one turned.’

‘Sirius told me that Lily was taken,’ said Remus. ‘Do you know about that?’

Bagshot nodded. ‘When Lily joined the Guardians the War was just beginning. It seemed distant, then, and no-one really knew how bad things would get. The Death King’s agents hadn’t yet entered the Unicorn Realm. The Forest still felt peaceful, and safe, and with four Guardians working together it seemed to flourish.

‘We should have realised, it was inevitable that the Death King would target the Forest. He was desperate for power over all magic, and there might not be any more powerful source of free magic than the Forest. The Guardians built defences, fortifications around the perimeter of the Forest, and perhaps could even have withstood a direct attack. But the Death King chose not to act that way.’

Remus knew about this part. ‘He sent one of his agents to target Lily directly,’ he said. ‘An old friend of hers.’

‘That’s right,’ said Bagshot. ‘The boy, Severus, was a strange one. Neither James nor Sirius cared much for him, but the Forest had always been open to all, so they wouldn’t force him to leave. Lily thought he deserved a chance, and she was smart enough that no-one could completely dismiss that as naiveté. Besides, Severus was sweet on her, you know, so he was always on his best behaviour around her.

‘The Death King was impatient, though, and called Severus back to him. Severus wanted the power and the status the Death King promised him, but he wanted Lily too. He tried convincing her at first, but Lily would never have worked for the Death King voluntarily, not even when he told her that the Death King’s victory was inevitable, and the someday all magic users would have to choose between serving him and death.

‘There may have been some good in Severus’ intentions, but I’m sure you heard what he did. He used the Death King’s curse to turn Lily into a genie and took her away from the Forest.’

Remus, who had been listening in rapt silence, paused to take it all in. He thought about how terrifying it must have been for Lily, to be betrayed by her friend and taken away like that, how furious Sirius must have been when he found out what had happened to his best friend.

‘Sirius told me what he did,’ said Remus. ‘How he made Lily fall in love with him. He said it was the worst thing anyone could do to a genie.’

Professor Bagshot looked at him, her expression thoughtful and sad. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘Yes, I suppose it is. It was a tragedy for all concerned.’

‘How so?’

‘Severus did well at first. With Lily’s help he soon rose through the ranks of the Death King’s army, acquiring the power and wealth he’d longed for. But she grew ill, and he was afraid. There wasn’t a spell or a potion in the world that Severus could find to cure her, and he was frightened to return to the Forest to ask. Sirius and James, and Peter – he was still the Water Guardian then – were ready to turn the world upside down looking for Lily. To have a Guardian in his grasp and lose them was sure to incur the Death King’s wrath, but in the end Severus did the only thing he could do to save Lily; he let her go.’

‘Just like that?’ asked Remus.

‘Something like that.’ Professor Bagshot smiled. ‘I suppose he must have genuinely cared for her after all. He died soon after, so I hear. But Lily returned to the Forest more determined than ever to protect it from the Death King’s clutches. The whole Forest rejoiced at our Guardian’s safe return, but none more so than James. In spite of the raging conflict outside, he and Lily were married within the year.’

It sounded like a happy ending, and Remus found himself wishing that the story stopped there. He had more to learn, but for once found himself unwilling to hear more. Making his excuses to Professor Bagshot, Remus gathered up his things and made his way out of the tower.

 

* * *

 

He walked away slowly, not returning directly to the Inn but instead walking along the dusty path of the dry riverbed. Kingsley had returned from another trip fetching water the night before, so the wells and barrels would be full for a while yet, but there was still no sign of rain nor trickle of water in the places where the river used to flow. As he walked he remembered what Sirius had told him, and what he hadn’t told him. Sirius had neglected to mention that his brother had married his best friend. As secretive as Sirius was, it seemed odd that he would fail to mention such an innocent thing.

 _The worst thing you can do to a genie. The very worst. He wished for her to fall in love with him_.

Remus had known that there were those who scorned the concepts of love and marriage, but none with the vehemence that Sirius had shown. He threw his bag down between the rushes, and sat down on what was once a riverbank. A curious mouse popped its head out from between the reeds and made its way up Remus’ trousers. Remus lay down his hand in front of it, letting little paws tickle his palm. Why did he care so much if Sirius was opposed to love?

‘Because I love him,’ Remus whispered. He lifted his arm, watching the mouse’s whiskers twitch as it stared at him with beady little eyes. ‘What do you think of that, little mouse? I’m so in love with him, and it’s completely hopeless.’

The mouse didn’t answer, of course, just scurried down Remus’ sleeve and back into the rushes, tail flicking behind it as it went somewhere else in search of berries.

  


* * *

 

A whole month went by, of lessons and reading stories by the fireplace, and another wonderful night running under the full moon. Remus woke again in the strange house, wondering how he got there. There was no sign of Sirius. He pulled on his coat and shoes and ran out the door, this time finding his way back through the depths of the Forest without the help of friendly badgers or anyone else.

‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ said Sirius, as he took a chair next to Remus, who was settled in his favourite corner by the fire.

‘I can’t have been doing a very good job of it,’ said Remus. ‘Since you found me here, where I live.’

Sirius grinned and leant back, taking a sip from his tankard as he did so. ‘You know what I mean,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you’ve gone this long without trying to find me since you arrived in the Forest. I hope you’re not getting bored of me.’

It was Remus’ turn to smile; the thought of anyone ever getting bored of Sirius was just silly. He hoped that Sirius would be willing to laugh off the matter of Remus avoiding him – which, in fact, he had done. Now that he’d admitted his feelings about Sirius to himself at least – and to his anonymous friend, the field mouse – they seemed to have magnified a thousand fold. Thoughts of Sirius occupied his every waking hour, and sometimes his dreams as well, and Remus felt sure they must be written all over his face. How foolish he must seem, a plain uneducated boy from a quiet corner of the Dragonlands, falling for someone as unobtainably exquisite as Sirius.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ Sirius waved, breaking Remus’ concentration. Remus flushed, realising he’d been staring at him. Well, that had to be at least partly Sirius’ fault; how did he get even more beautiful every time Remus saw him?

‘Sorry, just a bit tired,’ said Remus, adding a yawn to make it convincing.

‘Too tired to tell your favourite genie another story?’

Remus laughed. ‘Never,’ he said. ‘You must have better things to do than sit around listening to me.’

‘Not really,’ said Sirius. ‘Besides, I like listening to you.’

‘Then how I could I refuse?’ said Remus. ‘What sort of story would you like this time?’

Sirius leant towards him, a slow, lazy smile playing across his face. ‘A love story.’

Remus coughed, feeling flustered and horribly embarrassed.

‘If that’s what you want,’ he managed at last. ‘I might even give you a happy ending as well. Long ago and far away, a maiden lived by the edge of the woods. The woman’s name was Odette. She was so beautiful the flowers asked her to blow on them to make them prettier, and so good the bees asked her to sing to them to make their honey sweeter. Odette was beloved by all who met her, even those with hearts as cold and dead as stone.

‘One such of those was the sorcerer who lived on the mountain. The sorcerer was cruel and strange, and the villagers told all manner of tales about him; that he could stop the birds from singing with a single glance, that he kept his own daughter locked in the attic, and that he slept on a bed of bones. The sorcerer rarely ventured into the village, and when he did local people would make themselves scarce, fearful of falling prey to one of his curses. One day he arrived early in the morning, just as the traders were setting up the market stalls. Odette was there, selling posies of flowers she’d gathered in the woods. When the sorcerer saw her he fell in love with her at once. He rushed up to Odette, and asked her to marry him.

‘Odette laughed, not out of cruelty but simply because she was so surprised. “Marry you?” she said. “But I don’t even know you.”

‘The sorcerer promised her that if they married she would live in a castle, and be waited on hand and foot by a thousand servants.

‘“I don’t think I’d like that very much,” said Odette. “A thousand servants! I’d sooner enjoy the quiet of the woods.”

‘The sorcerer thought again and told Odette that if she married him he would dress her in the fanciest gowns, made from the finest silk, and sewn by needlewomen with fingers as nimble as mice.

‘“Oh, no, I don’t think such clothes would be right for me,” said Odette. “I’d be too afraid of dirtying them or tearing my hem to go out and enjoy myself.”

‘The sorcerer considered a third time, and this time he told Odette that as his wife she would be bedecked in jewels, with opals on her fingers and as many diamonds in her hair as there are stars in the sky.

‘Again, Odette declined. “Who has time to polish so much jewellery?” she said. “Besides, the flowers I pick are all the decoration I need.”

‘Finally, the sorcerer’s patience ran out. He had offered Odette everything he could imagine a woman might want, and still she had refused him. In front of all the village, too! There were children laughing, peeking from behind their mothers’ aprons, and soon the whole country would hear tell of it, how the fearsome sorcerer was not so fearsome after all.

‘“This is your last chance,” he said. “Accept my hand or suffer the consequences.”

‘But Odette was not only beautiful and good, she was brave, too. She stood her ground, unafraid. “I will never marry you,” she said.

‘The sorcerer was beside himself with rage. In his fury, he turned on Odette, right in the middle of the village square.

‘“Foolish, picturesque woman!” he cried, raising his hands. “No more brains than a bird. And a fancy bird you shall remain all your days!”

‘And with that he cursed poor Odette, so that she was a beautiful woman no more, but instead took the form of a swan. Though a swan is beautiful still, it was a strange and frightening experience for Odette, who turned and ran into the woods to hide.

‘From that moment onwards, Odette spent her days as a swan, returning to her own body only at night. She dared not venture out of the woods again, but instead stayed close to the pond, and built herself a nest made from scarves left dangling from the trees by local women who had also known the wrath of thwarted men.

‘Odette’s story was well known, and as she was well-liked the local people pleaded with the sorcerer to release her from her curse. Even the son of the local lord, brave Siegfried, approached the sorcerer and demanded Odette’s release with the tip of his sword. The sorcerer just laughed, and said that he could not release Odette even if he wished to do so. The only way the curse on her could be broken was if one who had never loved before were to confess true love to her.

‘The sorcerer thought this a very clever trick, as he had loved none before Odette and had been spurned by her; surely there could not be another like him in all the land? But Siegfried smiled, bold and handsome, as he announced, “I shall tell her as soon as I find her!”

‘Finding Odette might not be easy, but the sorcerer could see Siegfried’s determination and knew he must use all his cunning to thwart him. He called his daughter, Odile, to assist him. Odile did indeed live in the attic, mostly by choice, the better to avoid her father. She was as beautiful as he was cruel, and fearful enough of the sorcerer’s whims to do his bidding.

‘The sorcerer told her that she must fool the brave Lord Siegfried, so that he would pledge his love to her and not Odette. Odile tried to argue, saying that it was clear the young man’s heart was set on Odette, and would not easily be swayed.

‘“In that case, you must use your wits rather than your looks,” said the sorcerer. “If it is Odette that Siegfried wishes to declare his love to, then it is Odette who you must become. Or rather, you must supplant her.”

‘Odile privately thought that this was a rather stupid plan, as well as being petty and mean-spirited, but she did not argue. At least it would get her out of her father’s house for a while, and she was curious to see the woman who caused all this fuss. Her father even granted her the magic of a swan maiden, allowing her to transform at will. It would allow her to mimic the curse he had placed on Odette, but at least she could control it, and that made it seem like a gift.

‘Odile left her father’s house and flew down the mountain. She swam upriver into the woods, to the pond were Odette had made her home. There were other swans there – real ones, Odile supposed – but Odile had no difficulty picking out the imposter. Odette looked exactly like a swan, and at first glance she even behaved like one, but there was a gentleness and a generosity to her manner that was unmistakable.

‘Evening fell, and Odile hid so that she could observe Odette. She paid close attention to how Odette walked, the way she carried herself, and the tone of her voice as she chatted to the owls, hedgehogs, and foxes. This trick she repeated three times, until one day, soon after dusk had fallen, a voice called out to her.

‘“Are you going to stay hiding behind that tree all night?” asked Odette. Feeling rather foolish, Odile crept out from her hiding place, and accepted Odette’s gift of honey and nuts. Odette did not seem angry that Odile had been spying on her, more pleased to have human company at last. She was funny and kind, and Odile regretted more than ever the scheme her father had cooked up against her. Part of her hoped that Siegfried would never find them, and she would be able to abandon the ruse to stay in the woods with Odette forever.

‘But Siegfried was determined, and find them he did. Just as dusk was about to fall – mere moments before Odette would be transformed back to a woman once more – he arrived at the edge of the pond. Though she hated to do it, she feared her father’s anger more, so Odile used the powers he had granted her to appear before him as human.

‘“Odette!” cried Siegfried. “Is it really you?”

‘Odile couldn’t bring herself to lie outright, so instead she just smiled and asked, “who else?”

‘Siegfried’s face lit up with joy, and he launched into a tender and ebullient declaration of love that would have touched the hardest of hearts. Odile was unmoved.

‘“Foolish boy!” she cried. “You idiot, did you even look at me?”

‘“Odette?” said Siegfried.

‘“No,” came a voice from behind them. It was Odette, who had returned to her own body now that the sun had set.

‘Siegfried was understandably confused, “You’re not Odette,” he said to Odile.

‘“I’m not Odette,” she said. “And because you were too undiscerning to notice, you declared your love to the wrong woman. You can never save her now.”

‘Unable to even look at either of them anymore, Odile resumed her swan shape and took to the sky, soaring over the treetops and far across the wood. She flew all night, and landed at dawn beside a wide river. The river ran wild and fast, too treacherous for any birds to swim in it, and Odile briefly thought of throwing herself in, offering her life to the mercy of the tides. But Odile was far too sensible to do anything so rash, so instead she became a girl once more and walked along the riverbank, thinking of Odette and how she missed her.

‘When she thought of Odette, Odile smiled to herself, but then she thought of Siegfried and grew angry. How could that idiot boy throw the chance of love away because he couldn’t even give the woman he claimed to love a proper look? Odette deserved so much better than that, and Odile took to the skies again to tell her so.

‘Odile found Odette by the edge of the pond, and she was easily recognisable amidst the crowd of other swans. Odile would recognise her amongst a thousand other women, too.

‘“I am sorry, Odette, for my deceit,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve worked most of it out by now. The sorcerer is my father, and he sent me here to make sure that Siegfried would fail in his quest to free you.”

‘“I am sorry, too, that your fate rested on such a man,” she continued. “The little lord may have been brave and dashing, but he has the brains of a drunk donkey – I do not think he loved you as you deserve to be loved.”

‘Odette the swan looked at her, and Odile felt sure she understood. “I do not think he loved you as I love you.”

‘The rising sun tipped over the treetops, spilling golden light across the pond. Odette was a woman once more. She took Odile by the hand, and whispered to her, “I love you, too.”

‘Odette laughed and turned back into a swan. With Odile by her side, she took to the sky once more. Together they flew, glorious and free, into the brilliant light of a new day.’

‘Even now, the story of Odette and her fate is well-remembered in the village. When the local women suffer heartache, when their love leaves them cold and disappointed, when the future seems bleak, they venture into the woods and leave offerings for the swan maidens, in the hope that one day they too will know the joy of love set free.’

Sirius had listened in silence as Remus spoke. He had a soft, far-away smile on his face that made Remus hope he had enjoyed it.

‘It’s a lovely story,’ said Sirius. ‘What do you think it means?’

Remus was glad that Sirius had enjoyed it, but not properly prepared for a discussion. ‘Does a story have to mean anything?’

‘Not always,’ said Sirius. ‘But they usually do.’

‘I think the moral of this story is not to let an evil sorcerer bully you into marriage,’ said Remus. ‘Since his daughter might come up with a better offer.’

Sirius laughed. ‘I suppose that is one way of looking at it,’ he agreed. ‘I’m glad it had a happy ending, though. If only real love stories could end so well.’

Just as he’d been starting to relax, Remus felt his sense of disquiet rear up again. Sirius did seem to have a problem with romance. ‘I think they can sometimes.’

‘Maybe.’ Sirius looked thoughtful. ‘It’s a nice idea, anyway.’

Remus wanted to ask him if he thought that love ever ended happily, but wasn’t sure he was prepared for the answer. ‘It’s late,’ he said instead, ‘I should get some sleep.’

Sirius made no move to stop him, so Remus got up and hurried to the stairs. When he took a final glance behind him, Sirius was staring into the fire, his expression unreadable.

 

* * *

 

Sirius was at the Inn again in the morning, and Remus wondered if he’d spent the night there. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he’d wonder if Sirius even slept at all.

‘Do you not have a home to go to?’ said Remus as he sat across the table from Sirius, stirring honey into his porridge.

Sirius’ smile seemed forced, and Remus wondered guiltily if Sirius actually _did_ have a proper home of his own. ‘Rosmerta’s hospitality is outstanding,’ he said. ‘Shame not all of her guests are so welcoming. You’re up late – don’t you have lessons to go to?’

‘Not today,’ said Remus. ‘My cousin Kingsley will be here in a bit. I’m going to help him unload.’

‘Poor old Bathilda will have to do without you,’ said Sirius. ‘Shame, I’ll bet you’re her favourite person to gossip to.’

It was true that some of the conversations Remus had with Professor Bagshot might be construed as gossip, but that didn’t make him feel any more comfortable about Sirius describing them that way.

‘You just want to know if we’ve talked about you,’ said Remus, pushing aside the uncomfortable knowledge that he _did_ discuss Sirius with his teacher on a regular basis.

‘Well, I am a fascinating subject.’ Sirius leant back, eyebrow raised. ‘Mind, you’re plenty interesting yourself. Best watch out, she’ll be writing a book about you next.’

 

Remus chuckled and shook his head. ‘I think you overestimate my significance,’ he said. ‘She was a bit curious about what I wished for.’

‘Everyone always wants to know that,’ said Sirius. ‘Only one wish left – any ideas?’

‘Not really. I don’t think there’s anything I want that much. I remember you told me it should be for something important.’ Remus didn’t like to admit that he was reluctant to make his final wish anyway, for fear that he wouldn’t get to spend time like this with Sirius again. Even though being around Sirius made him nervous and twitchy, the thought of Sirius not wanting him around anymore was worse. ‘Why, keen to get rid of me?’

It was meant to be a joke, sort of, or at least a passably disguised plea for reassurance. Remus had expected – hoped – Sirius might laugh and tell him not to be daft, and then Remus might be able to console himself that Sirius liked him at least a little bit. Instead Sirius stiffened, and his expression turned cold.

‘Will I be?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t realise you were planning to ditch me when I didn’t have to do anything for you anymore.’

‘I didn’t mean that!’ said Remus. His breakfast porridge sat heavily in his stomach. ‘I just meant that once you’ve granted all my wishes, you won’t be _forced_ to have anything to do with me.’

‘Oh.’ Sirius’ expression softened. ‘Oh, well, you know… I only really have to make your wishes come true.’

It was so unlike Sirius to show any sort of uncertainty that it took Remus a moment to recognise it. He realised that plenty of people Sirius had granted wishes for probably had taken off once they had no more use for him, and felt another twinge of sadness at Sirius’ situation. It was cruel for anyone to feel so constantly abandoned.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Remus, and he tried not to read too much into the smile Sirius gave him in return. ‘I was wondering about something.’

‘Yes?’

‘The other Guardians, Lily and James. You never told me they were married.’ It was another thing that’d been bothering Remus, that perhaps Sirius too had feelings for Lily, and maybe he was jealous that she’d chosen his brother.

Sirius just looked at him like he’d lost his mind. ‘What are you talking about? I showed you a photo from the wedding.’

‘When?’

‘That morning, after the full moon,’ said Sirius. ‘We were in their house.’

 

Remus realised with yet another flush of embarrassment that he’d been too busy looking at Sirius in the picture to notice. ‘I didn’t realise,’ he said. ‘We, um, wear different wedding clothes in the Dragonlands.’

Sirius gave him a look which either meant he couldn’t believe Remus thought he was that stupid, or he couldn’t believe that Remus was that stupid. Remus chose not to dwell on which it was.

‘That must have been strange, though,’ said Remus. ‘Your brother and your best friend.’

‘What’s strange about it?’ asked Sirius.

‘It’s just… I thought maybe you might have felt a bit… left out.’

Sirius glared back at Remus. ‘Left out?’

‘I just wondered.’

‘Wondered, right,’ said Sirius. ‘Or maybe you wanted to poke your nose into what happened to Lily and James, but instead of just asking me you thought you’d insinuate that I’d offed them in a jealous temper tantrum, is that it?’

Remus just managed to stop himself pointing out that Sirius didn’t exactly act like he was a stranger to temper tantrums. Instead he just said quietly. ‘You told me you’d killed them. But I can’t… you don’t seem like a murderer.’

‘I as good as killed them,’ said Sirius dully. He looked away, and then took a deep breath. Just like that, his temper seemed to have abated. ‘I thought I was so clever. We had it all worked out, the perfect plan, or so we thought. But we overestimated ourselves. Or maybe underestimated quite how cruel magic can be, I don’t know.’

‘What happened?’

‘I made a wish,’ said Sirius. ‘Didn’t you know that genies can make wishes too? It took us a while to work it out. And I was happy for Lily and James, you don’t know how much. I wished that they could be together forever.’

‘And?’

‘And my wish came true.’

His time in the Forest had taught Remus that wishes coming true could be a terrible thing, and could only imagine what this one meant; technically dying together would’ve kept Lily and James together forever. Instinctively, Remus reached out across the table to touch the back of Sirius’ hand. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘For what happened, and for being so insensitive about it.’

‘They would never have left me,’ said Sirius. ‘They loved me. It doesn’t count less because it’s not romantic. Friendship is just as important.’

‘I know.’ Remus nodded. He got the distinct impression that Sirius thought this point was important. He wondered if Sirius had guessed how Remus felt about him, and was trying to let him down gently, by offering friendship in lieu of romance. But no, letting someone down gently didn’t seem much like Sirius’ style – more likely he just wanted Remus to know how much his friends had meant to him.

Remus might have liked to see if Sirius would say more, but their conversation was cut off by Kingsley’s arrival, yelling for Remus get off his lazy backside and help him carry in the crates. Reluctantly, he pushed his leftover breakfast aside and bid Sirius goodbye.

‘Remember,’ said Sirius as he got up to leave. ‘Think about what you really want.’

It left Remus plenty to think about as he spent the rest of the morning helping Kingsley unload the wagon. There was little doubt as to what his heart wanted – he wanted Sirius, more than he’d ever wanted anything or anyone before – but was a friendship with him going to be enough to give Remus a happy future in the Forest?  



	7. Chapter 7

 

Helping Kingsley had proven a useful diversion, so Remus decided that the best way to cope with – or avoid – his feelings for Sirius was to keep himself busy. He tried to push aside thoughts of how much he wanted Sirius to love him back, or tormenting himself with the vexed question of whether he might have done to Sirius what Severus had done to Lily; use the power of wishing to make it happen. It was easy to say no now, because he knew how dangerous it was, but was that the only reason? Remus hoped not, because the idea of forcing Sirius to do anything was horrible to him. He wanted Sirius to be happy, to be free.

Sadly, the possibility of Remus finding a way to free Sirius seemed as unlikely as winning his heart. Lily had tried and failed, and she was a gifted enough magic-user to become a Guardian. Remus needed to occupy himself, to make himself useful, and stop wasting time on hopeless longing.

He rearranged the cellar at the Inn, cleaned every chimney place in Professor Bagshot’s tower, and took a few turns behind the bar. At the weekend, he helped Dorcas weed the vegetable patch, and when that was done he even volunteered to share the task of the annual stock-take with Marlene.

‘I do really appreciate you helping me out like this,’ she said as Remus carefully jotted down rows of figures in a ledger. ‘Dorcas always says she’s happy to help, but I know it bores her silly.’

‘It’s no bother,’ said Remus. ‘After all, you helped me so much when you taught me how to brew the antidote to Sleeping Sickness.’

Remus had spoken to his father in the mirror the night before, pleased to see that the old man was back to his old self again. He’d been talking about going out trading again, although Remus’ mother thought it was high time he thought about retirement.

‘That was fun, though,’ said Marlene, smiling as she tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I don’t get a chance to make difficult potions very often, and you were a good student. Besides, Sirius asked.’

‘Still, you didn’t have to do it.’

‘Technically, no, but Sirius is our Guardian and if he asks a favour there’s usually a good reason for it. He seems to think you’re important.’

It was undeniably a nice thing to hear, and Remus wanted to  know more. From the way Marlene spoke, it sounded a little like she felt she owed Sirius. ‘Did he ever grant wishes for you?’

Marlene stopped still, holding a small bottle containing Extract of Henbane. After a moment’s pause she turned to face Remus, and shook her head. ‘No, he didn’t. I did have a genie grant me wishes once,’ she said.  ‘It was Lily.’

‘Really?’  Remus was surprised. He hadn’t really thought about how Sirius hadn’t always been the only genie in the Forest, just as he hadn’t always been the only Guardian. ‘Did you know her well?’

‘Quite well,’ said Marlene. ‘She taught me a lot about making remedies, actually – Lily was a terrific brewer. That was besides helping me by granting wishes.’

‘Was that before you met Dorcas?’

Marlene looked puzzled. ‘No, Dorcas and I have been together for years. Why?’

‘Oh, I just didn’t know if she might be jealous or anything.’ Remus’ words came out in an embarrassed mumble. ‘When Lily had to kiss you to grant your wish.’

There was a long pause, which only served to magnify Remus’ sense of mortification. He felt sure his face was warm enough to fry an egg.

 

‘I’ve never kissed Lily,’ said Marlene, sounding very much like she was trying to contain her amusement. ‘We weren’t that close.’

Remus just nodded, and avoided eye contact.

‘You know what, I think we’ve done enough work for now,’ said Marlene. ‘I’ve got some photos upstairs you might like to take a look at. Let’s stop for tea.’

It seemed Marlene was going to let him off the hook, at least for the time being, so Remus agreed readily. Besides, he was eager to hear more about Lily, and perhaps James too. After all, the more he learnt about magic and the Forest, genies and Guardians, the more likely it was that he’d find a way to help Sirius.

Marlene lead him to the flat she shared with Dorcas above the shop. It was a messy, cosy place, full of mismatched furniture and assorted nick-nacks. The walls had originally been painted a sunny shade of yellow, but there was very little of them left visible with all the paintings, posters, and photographs that were pinned up all around the living room. Remus especially liked the series of botanical illustrations, all executed in delicate watercolours, which hung above the fireplace.

They shared a pot of tea and a chipped plate of tiny, delicious, blackberry and cardamom pies, and Marlene dug out some of her many photo albums to show Remus. Marlene had grown up in the Forest, so she was able to tell Remus all about attending the tiny school where Mackinley now taught, and what life had been like before the War. It sounded even more idyllic than the Forest Remus knew, and though his own childhood in the Dragonlands hadn’t exactly been unhappy, he did envy her the days spent chasing around the trees, searching for frogspawn, and blowing dandelion clocks.

Marlene’s photos showed parts of the Forest that were damaged now looking green and healthy, and she explained that more people had lived there before. She showed him pictures of many of her friends, and Remus tried his best to politely pretend to be just as interested in everyone else as he was in the pictures she showed him of Sirius. He had a feeling Marlene wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

‘This is when I opened the Apothecary,’ said Marlene, showing Remus a double page spread of photographs. The shop was just recognisable, being covered with celebratory garlands of flowers, and full of people partying. Remus recognised Sirius in several pictures, laughing and hugging someone Remus recognised as James.  For once, there was something that drew his attention away from Sirius; James was dressed in a tunic which left his arms bare. On his upper arm was a mark, in a familiar style but an unfamiliar pattern – it looked like clouds, and seemed very much like the moon on Remus’ cheek, and the stars he’d seen on Sirius’ chest.

‘What is that?’ asked Remus, pointing at the photograph.

‘Clouds,’ said Marlene, confirming Remus’ suspicions. ‘They’re symbolic, I think. To represent Air.’

Remus wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He’d always felt vaguely uncomfortable about the moon on his face, even though most people didn’t seem to notice it. Finding out that Sirius had something similar had given him a brief thrill, thinking they might be connected in some way. But perhaps these marks were more common than Remus had thought?

‘Ah, here it is,’ said Marlene, flicking through the album. ‘Lily had one too. Look.’

Doing as he was told, Remus saw a photograph of Lily, which showed quite clearly that she had a leaf on the back of her hand. He couldn’t help but deflate a little; clearly these marks weren’t all that special after all.

Marlene didn’t seem to notice his decline, busily reminiscing about Lily, who’d apparently been a close friend. If the groups of smiling faces which surrounded her in almost every picture were anything to go by, she’d certainly been popular.

‘Oh, definitely, everyone loved Lily,’ agreed Marlene when Remus suggested it. ‘There was just something really friendly and warm about her, you know? You couldn’t help noticing it, right from the moment you first met her.’

Something about the phrase stuck in Remus’ mind. _Right from the moment you first met her._ It reminded him of what Sirius had told him about Lily. _The first day we met… she wished for my freedom._

That was it. Lily hadn’t been able to free Sirius, not from a lack of magical power or because her love for him hadn’t been romantic – her wish had failed because she made it too soon. Sirius had told him months ago that kindness wasn’t enough, that powerful magic was fuelled by strong emotions. Lily wouldn’t have had strong feelings about Sirius the first day they met, she didn’t know him then, didn’t love him.

But Remus did. Remus knew Sirius, or at least he thought he was beginning to, and he was certain that he loved him. Maybe, just maybe, Remus could free Sirius from his curse.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said, standing up so suddenly he knocked over a plate. He nearly fell over his feet in his hurry to pick it up and make his way out of the room.

Marlene called something after him, but Remus didn’t hear her. No matter, he’d go back and apologise later. All that mattered now was getting to Sirius. He ran down the stairs, dodging pot plants with trailing leaves, and crates full of empty bottles, then through the shop and outside. Heart pounding in his chest, Remus ran, through the herb garden and down the path, past the clearing where he’d made his first wish and across a scrubby patch of grass.

He felt exhilarated, terrified, as he ran. It might work, it might work, he might be able to free Sirius from the Death King’s clutches at last, by making the last wish that Sirius would ever be forced to grant. And if it didn’t? If it didn’t, Sirius would remain trapped and Remus would’ve thrown away his last wish for nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing, it was for Sirius. And Sirius was worth the risk.

At last, Remus stood in the middle of the circle of toadstools were he’d first met Sirius. The Hawthorn bush was so heavy with berries that its branches were drooping. That seemed important, somehow, but Remus would worry about that later. He took a few deep breaths, willing his thundering heart to beat steady in his chest, and lifted his head.

‘Sirius!’ he called, scanning the heavens. ‘Sirius!’

‘I’m here.’

Remus spun on the spot, to see Sirius standing a short distance behind him. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Remus thought that maybe Sirius knew what he was here for. There was a look of nervous anticipation on his face that made him look more uncertain than Remus had ever seen him. The whole time Remus had been in the Forest, Sirius had seemed one step ahead of him and now, at last, Remus clung to the faint hope that they were in this together.

‘I’m ready,’ said Remus, pleased with how calm he sounded, and also that Sirius appeared to understand without explanation.

Sirius took a few steps forward, and reached out to hold Remus’ hands in his own. ‘Go ahead.’

‘I wish you were free,’ said Remus. His throat felt tight, but he carried on. ‘I wish you didn’t have to be a genie, for you to escape the Death King’s curse. I wish for your freedom, for whatever you want to do with it.’

Sirius smiled as he leant towards Remus. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured against his lips.

This time, Remus was ready for the kiss, and knowing it might be his last, returned it eagerly. He wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck, pleased when Sirius held onto him in return, as they kissed, long, slow, and sweet, beneath the vast and open sky of the Forest.

 

Remus would’ve liked nothing better than the kiss to last forever, and though it did go on for a wonderfully long time, they were soon interrupted by a loud creaking noise, the sound of a tree branch falling. Sirius broke away, glancing around him, and Remus soon saw that the ground was trembling, and a dark fog was emerging over the top of the trees.

‘What’s happening?’ he said. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

‘Not at all,’ said Sirius, smiling back at him. ‘You’re perfect.’

There was another thunderous crash, and Sirius spun around, drawing something from his back pocket. Dark, horrible shadows surrounded the clearing, growing closer. They were cold, and Remus drew closer to Sirius’ warmth by instinct. Sirius held out his arm brandishing something Remus had never seen him use before. A wand. Sirius squeezed him tight, and a brilliant light erupted from the end of his wand. All at once appeared a giant, silver dog, the exact same shape and size as the one which had joined Remus during full moons. The dog looked like it was made of light, and it chased towards the dark shadows, forcing them back.

A storm was brewing, a cold wind howling through the Forest, and ominous black clouds circling overhead.

‘You never asked,’ Sirius shouted over the noise of the wind. ‘What I was before I became a Guardian.’

‘What were you?’ Remus yelled back.

‘I was – I am – a Child of the Phoenix,’ said Sirius. ‘So was James, so was Lily. And you know what else?’

‘No,’ admitted Remus, feeling like he didn’t know anything at all.

‘So are you,’ said Sirius. ‘Hold on tight.’

Remus was already clinging to Sirius for dear life as Sirius grabbed his arms and _twisted_. Remus felt a horrible jolt in his stomach as the clearing full of light and shadows disappeared from around them, and a moment later he landed with a bump beside the well under the pear tree.

‘This is the heart of the Forest,’ said Sirius. ‘It’s safe here.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘The curse is broken,’ said Sirius. ‘But dark magic doesn’t give up without a fight. It’s time to purge the last of the Death King’s evil form the Forest.’

He span around, looking out at the Forest as he called out, cupping his hands to his mouth to amplify his voice. It rang out clear and loud, carrying into the tree.

‘James, Lily, it’s time,’ called Sirius. ‘I wish to save the Forest.’

Two familiar figures appeared – the stag and the doe Remus had met in this very place under the full moon. They walked forwards, and as they moved they changed shape, transforming into humans. As the figures grew closer, Remus recognised who they were, even though he’d never expected to see them outside photographs.

Lily and James ran towards Sirius, who threw himself at them. Soon they were all hugging and laughing, so joyful in their reunion that despite his surprise, Remus couldn’t help but feel a little left out.  Not for long, though, as Sirius jogged back to fetch him, pulling Remus by his hand.

 

‘Come and meet my family,’ he said.

A man with crooked glasses and hair that looked even messier in real life held out his hand. ‘You must be Remus.’

‘Yes.’ Remus held out his free hand to shake. ‘And you’re alive.’

That wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but James didn’t seem offended. He laughed easily. ‘So I am.’

‘Sorry.’ Remus was growing more confused by the second. The way Sirius was still holding his hand wasn’t helping him to think any more clearly. ‘I don’t really know what’s going on.’

‘That’s partly because it is all very complicated, and partly Sirius’ innate sense of melodrama. Don’t worry, we’ll get it all sorted. I’m Lily, by the way.’

Remus didn’t say anything as she hopped up and gave him a brief hug.

‘I hope you’re a quick learner, because we’ve not got much time,’ said James. ‘You can definitely blame Sirius for that, since he should’ve spent less time flirting – nice one with the whole “kisses for wishes” thing, mate, very smooth – ’

‘Shove off,’ said Sirius, but there was no heat in it.

‘ – and more time helping you find your own magic,’ James finished.

‘The hawthorn bush,’ said Sirius, in answer to Remus’ bewildered glance. ‘The acorns, remember? You didn’t just find them. You made that happen.’

‘But I… I don’t have magic.’

‘You do, and that’s not the only thing you’ve been told that isn’t quite true,’ said James. ‘The Last Great Magic War isn’t quite won.’

Frightening as it was, that at least made some sense. The dark shadows which had appeared shortly after Remus made his last wish, the signs of dark magic and decay which lingered in parts of the Forest, the roiling black clouds gathering over distant tree tops all pointed to one thing. It wasn’t over yet.

‘I hope you weren’t expecting a quiet afternoon,’ said Lily, drawing her wand. ‘Welcome to the Last Battle.’


	8. Chapter 8

 

No sooner had Lily spoken than the wall of foliage which surrounded them seemed to erupt, and a mass of twisting vines and long, dark snakes shot towards them. Sirius, Lily, and James took up position, facing outwards in a triangle formation, with Remus standing awkwardly to the side, his hand still gripping Sirius’. Each of the three Guardians raised their wands, and a trio of hazy, ephemeral phoenixes took to the sky.

Hooded figures, like the dark shadows they’d escaped earlier, swooped down from the sky. They flew towards James, beneath the cover of phoenixes which shot out over the woods. James lifted his hand, not seeming to use a wand this time, and the wind blew fast and furious. The hooded figures were torn into pieces by the buffeting gale, and drifted away across the treetops in a thousand pieces.

There was no time to celebrate as the ground creaked and groaned, and dark black vines covered the grass, writhing like snakes and covered in blood-red thorns. Lily spread out her hands, palms down, in an open circle, and all at once the grass grew faster, thicker than before. The very ground seemed to come to life, opening and swallowing the poison vines, until every last one was gone and the forest floor returned to normal, with meadow flowers swaying in the breeze.

Remus glanced about, struggling to take it all in. It was frightening, overwhelming, but also thrilling. He’d never felt like part of something so big, so important before.

The leafy wall cracked again, and Sirius raised his hand, letting out an indecipherable roar. All at once the mess of vines and snakes caught light, burning hot and brilliant in a glorious flash of fire. Then, as quickly as it had started, the fire went out; the dark wall had burnt away, leaving a clear view of the Forest behind.

Overhead, there was the sound of birds singing as the three silver phoenixes returned. They flew a slow circle around the pear tree, their song low and melodic on the wind, until each of them in turn flew down the well and disappeared from view.

‘What just happened?’ asked Remus.

‘It’s over,’ said James. His face broke into a grin. ‘We won.’

Remus soon found himself trapped in the middle of another round of joyous hugging, and Sirius, Lily, and James all embraced, quite literally jumping for joy. He found himself laughing too, not so left out this time, but still not feeling like he quite belonged either.

‘Thank you,’ said Lily, wrapping her arms around Remus’ neck. ‘You saved my best friend. And my home.’

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but James clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Couldn’t have done it without you,’ he said.

Sirius just offered him a slow, sideways smile, and squeezed Remus’ hand.

‘What happens now?’ asked Remus.

‘Clean up time,’ said James. He held out his hand to Remus. ‘Come with us. Then the rest is up to you.’

After briefly glancing back at Sirius, who nodded, Remus held out his free hand to James. Once again he felt an uncomfortable twist and squeeze, and when he looked around he saw they were all standing in one of the cursed parts of the Forest. Without speaking, Sirius burnt away the blackened vines, which Lily replaced with fresh, green growth. James stirred up a breeze, letting seeds float and butterflies soar. The space looked idyllic as it must have been before the war, save for the barren stretch of cracked mud which ran a twisting path through the Forest.

The river was still dry.

It took Remus a while to notice that the others were looking at him expectantly. ‘We need a Water Guardian,’ said Sirius in a low voice. ‘Will you..?'

Remus turned to Sirius, surprised by the solemnity of his expression. Of course he’d do anything for Sirius, anything at all, but this was beyond him.

‘I don’t have any wishes left,’ he said, though surely Sirius already knew this. ‘I haven’t any magic.’

Sirius reached out, so that he was holding both of Remus’ hands. ‘Remus, no hazelnuts had grown in the Forest for years before you touched the trees, nor hawthorn berries either. And a person doesn’t just turn into a wolf every month by accident.’

‘It’s a curse,’ said Remus automatically, though he was no longer sure he believed it.

‘You were cursed but not by the moon,’ said Sirius. ‘Remember what Professor Bagshot told you about the Death King wanting control of all magic? The Guardians weren’t the only ones he came after; he stole magic from many lands. But the moon chose you as her favourite, wrapping up your magic and hiding it with her transit, hidden so perfectly from the Death King’s view that you couldn’t even see it yourself.’

It all seemed so extraordinary. After all these years, could it really be that Remus had magic all along? And not any magic, magic powerful enough to allow him to serve with the Guardians of the Forest. It seemed beyond belief and yet, somehow, Remus felt it to be true.

‘You can bring the water back to the Forest,’ Sirius continued. ‘If you want to.’

Of course Remus wanted to, wanted it more than anything. For Sirius, for the Forest, even for himself. But how?

Sirius led him to the side of the riverbed, so that they stood side by side on the bank.

‘The moon controls the tide,’ said Sirius. ‘Water is your element. You don’t have to wish anymore. Will it.’

And so Remus did. He closed his eyes and thought of water, clean and pure, bringing life through the Forest. He thought of the sea off the Dragonlands, the Poets’ Lakes, and the babbling brook behind his grandfather’s house. He felt like he was calling out, silently and from deep within himself, summoning water to the river.

‘Open your eyes.’

Remus did as he was told, and saw the river bubbling before him. Water ran, clear and cold, filled with golden fishes, along the river. Dragonflies danced across the surface, and a frog relaxed on a lily pad. In the distance, otter cubs splashed, running up and down the now muddy riverbank.

‘I did it.’ Remus breathed, incredulous. It was wonderful beyond words, that he could make this happen.

‘You did,’ said Sirius, beaming at him proudly. Lily clapped her hands together, and James nodded his approval.

‘Nice job,’ he said. ‘But we’re still not done.’

They travelled around the Forest, gradually repairing all the damage done by the Death King’s curses. The twisted twines, the barren fields, the empty ponds. Remus soon got the hang of simply willing himself to move from place to place, and after a while he realised that he couldn’t just hear the birds singing in the trees, he understood what they meant.

There was a lot to do, but it was happy work. Lily and James were so warm and easy to talk to, Remus was sure they’d be fast friends. And Sirius showed no sign of wanting to let go of his hand. As they were finishing dusk began to fall. Foxes emerged from the shrubs, and primroses opened their flowers. The sky above turned to indigo, strewn with stars, and the moon shone luminous and friendly against the setting sun.

‘One last thing,’ said James, when they stood outside the cottage were Remus had woken up after the last full moons. He turned to Lily who smiled and nodded, before transforming into a doe. A moment later James was replaced by a stag, and when he turned Remus wasn’t much surprised to see a familiar black dog were Sirius had been moments before.

The dog barked, and Remus understood now even if he still couldn’t quite believe it. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again the world had faded to grey, depth of colour replaced by an abundance of scent. Remus was a wolf, running of his own accord beneath the crescent moon. He sprinted, chasing after the dog, who dashed away but didn’t seem to mind being caught, as they rolled and play-fought in the long grass.

A loud cough brought Remus back to his senses, and the next thing he knew he was lying on top of a decidedly human-shaped Sirius.

‘I think that covers everything,’ said Lily, as Remus scrambled to his feet.

‘Everything that we can help you with, at any rate,’ said James. ‘Night boys. Feel free to do everything I wouldn’t do.’

Still chuckling to himself, James draped his arm over Lily’s shoulders, and they walked back to the cottage together. Remus was alone with Sirius at last, and after everything that had happened in the last few hours, that was a wonderful and terrifying prospect. Sirius had been warmer and more affectionate towards Remus than he had ever been, and he’d barely let go of Remus’ hand all afternoon. Better yet, now they were going to be Guardians together, equals in defending the Forest. It all served to fuel the tender hope that Remus held out, that maybe his feelings for Sirius weren’t quite so hopeless after all.

Sirius sat up on his knees. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, holding out his hand once more. ‘Back to where it all started.’

Together they returned to the clearing where Remus had first seen Sirius arguing with a squirrel. The hawthorn bush and the fairy ring looked just the same, and there was a brook running through the clearing that Remus hadn’t noticed before. He nodded at it, and it filled with water, inky now under the darkening sky. Sirius set fireflies dancing over the water, and lit a small fire in the centre of the fairy circle.

‘Feels different now, doesn’t it?’ said Sirius, as they sat side by side in front of the fire. ‘I can’t believe it was only a few months ago you wandered in here and turned my whole world upside down.’

‘I turned your world upside down?’ Remus blinked. Surely it had been the other way around – Sirius was the one who was beautiful and mysterious, filled with magical powers that Remus had only ever dreamed of.

‘Yes, you, with your eyes and your smile and ability to bring on the autumn harvest,’ said Sirius. ‘And you had to arrive when I was in the middle of the most ridiculous row over nut allocation rights. You must’ve thought I was so peculiar.’

‘I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen,’ said Remus without thinking. ‘And, well, maybe yes, sometimes you did seem a bit peculiar.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t make things easier for you,’ said Sirius. ‘But I had to let you work it out for yourself. I knew you could.’

Remus smiled. ‘I’m glad somebody did,’ he said. It had been scary at times, especially when he went to make the last wish. ‘I suppose that was part of the point though, wasn’t it? Doing things that are certain to work is easy. Taking a risk… that showed I really meant it.’

Sirius nodded. ‘See, I knew you’d get it,’ he said. ‘Right from when I first met you I could tell. I could sense your magic, that you had the potential to be a Guardian, I could even see that your element was water. It drove me half out of my mind that I couldn’t just tell you. I wanted you so much; for the Forest… and for myself.’

‘I love you,’ said Remus. ‘I know you must realise it already, but I just wanted to say the words: I love you.’

Sirius’ eyes were soft and wide, reflecting the dancing firelight. ‘I love you, too.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ Sirius smiled. ‘You did free me from a dark curse. Thing like that can turn a boy’s head, you know.’

Remus laughed. ‘So I did,’ he agreed. ‘Suppose it was worth it then.’

‘Suppose it was.’

Sirius was so close; Remus could feel the warmth of his breath. It took only the slightest of movements for him to lean into Sirius and press their mouths together in a soft kiss, the first he’d initiated. Emboldened by the way Sirius returned the kiss, Remus pulled him closer, tangling his fingers in the silken mess of Sirius’ hair as they fell to the ground together, kissing and touching tenderly.

‘In case you were wondering,’ said Remus, when they finally parted, ‘you don’t have to make up excuses to kiss me anymore.’

‘Oh, that.’ Sirius actually looked a little bashful. It unexpectedly sweet. ‘I was surprised you let me get away with it.’

‘I didn’t mind so much,’ said Remus. ‘I did get to kiss you.’

‘Anytime.’ Sirius pressed another kiss to Remus’ mouth and then rolled onto his back, hugging Remus close to him as he looked up to the stars. Remus relaxed into Sirius’ embrace, idly tracing the spot where Sirius’ chest was marked with stars using the tip of his fingers.

‘So, um, what happens now?’ asked Remus. He still didn’t know where Sirius lived, or what his new role as a Guardian would really involve.

Sirius lifted his head to look at Remus directly. ‘Haven’t you read enough stories to know that?’ he said. ‘You discovered your destiny, defeated evil, found true love…’

‘… lucky me,’ Remus couldn’t resist interrupting.

‘So now,’ continued Sirius, as he stroked Remus’ face, ‘you get to live happily ever after.’

Happily ever after. In the Forest, with magic of his own and Sirius at his side. The thought of it warmed Remus, smooth and sweet like spiced mead.

‘I think I might,’ said Remus, ‘if you do it with me.’

Sirius’ smile was open and relaxed, and so beautiful Remus thought he’d never tire of seeing it. ‘I think I’d like that.’

‘Me too,’ agreed Remus. As he moved to kiss Sirius again, beneath the wide open sky, and surrounded by the verdant green of the Forest, it felt like maybe they would.

 


End file.
